A  TREASURE 
OF  HYMNS 

AMOS  R.  UDELLS 


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FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY  HIM   TO 

THE  LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Section        30W^ 


/ 


A  Treasure  of  Hymns 


Brief  Biographies  of  One  Hundred  and 

Twenty  Leading  Hymn-Writers 

with  Their  Best  Hymns 


^y 


By 
AMOS  R.  WELLS 


BOSTON  AND  CHICAGO 

UNITED  SOCIETY  OF  CHRISTIAN  ENDEAVOR 


Copyrighted,  19 14,  by  the 
United  Society  of  Christian  Endeavor 


Preface. 

FOR  ten  years  it  has  been  my  pleasure  to  write 
articles  on  the  leading  hymns  and  hymn- 
writers  for  The  Christian  Endeavor  Worlds  one  a 
month.  These  hymns  were  suggested  as  memory 
hymns  for  the  Christian  Endeavor  societies,  the 
hymns  to  be  sung  from  memory  in  the  meetings, 
and  the  facts  regarding  their  writers  to  be  stated  to 
the  young  people.  The  considerable  amount  of 
hymn  lore  thus  collected  is  here  presented  in  per- 
manent form  for  the  use  of  pastors,  church  workers, 
young  people's  societies,  and  all  lovers  of  hymns. 

No  claim  is  made  to  originality  ;  only  a  few  of 
these  chapters  consist  of  material  here  presented  for 
the  first  time ;  most  of  the  book  is  collected  from  a 
large  number  of  volumes.  The  usefulness  of  the 
book  will  spring  from  the  wide  range  of  hymn 
literature  which  has  been  examined,  the  most  inter- 
esting and  inspiring  facts  being  collated  for  this 
volume.  A  knowledge  of  the  authors  of  our  hymns, 
and  of  the  stirring  incidents  connected  with  the  use 
of  them,  cannot  fail  to  make  the  hymns  more  pre- 
cious to  every  Christian. 

The  one  hundred  and  twenty  hymn-writers  here 
treated  include  the  greatest  of  these  poets,  and  many 
of  the  lesser  writers.     In  each  case  all  their  most  im- 


4  Preface 

portant  hymns  are  named,  while  one  hymn,  usually 
the  most  famous  and  beloved,  is  selected  for  printing 
in  full. 

I  can  have  no  happier  wish  for  this  book  than 
that  it  may  bring  the  same  pleasure  and  profit  to  its 
readers  that  the  writing  of  it  has  brought  to  me. 

Amos  R.  Wells. 

Boston,  Mass, 


Contents. 


All  Hail  the  Power  of  Jesus*  Name 
Edward  Perronet. 

A  Mighty  Fortress  Is  Our  God 
Martin  Luther. 

Calm  on  the  Listening  Ear  of  Nigh 
Edmund  Hamilton  Sears, 

O  Little  Town  of  Bethlehem  . 
Bishop  Brooks, 

From  Greenland's  Icy  Mountains 
Bishop  Heber. 

Speed  Away 

Fanny  Crosby, 

How  Firm  a  Foundation 

T  rob  ably  by  Robert  Keene, 

My  Country,  *Tis  of  Thee     . 
Samuel  Francis  Smith. 

God  Bless  Our  Native  Land    . 
Charles  T.  Brooks  and  John 

Jesus,  Lover  of  My  Soul 
Charles  Wesley. 

Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee      . 
Sarah  Flower  Adams, 

Just  as  I  Am 

Charlotte  Elliott, 

Rock  of  Ages 

Augustus  M,  Toplady. 

Take  My  Life 

Frances  Ridley  Haver  gal. 

My  Faith  Looks  Up  to  Thee  . 
Ray  Palmer, 


Dwight, 


PAGE 

'3 

i8 

22 

25 

28 

33 
37 
43 
47 
49 
54 
59 
^Z 
68 

72 


Contents 


In  the  Cross  of  Christ  I  Glory 
Sir  John  Bowring, 

Sun  of  My  Soul    . 
John  Keble. 

Am  I  a  Soldier  of  the  Cross    . 
Isaac   Watts. 

Stand  Up,  Stand  Up  for  Jesus 
George  Duffield. 

Onward,  Christian  Soldiers     . 
Sabine  Baring-Gould. 

Awake,  My  Soul  .... 
Bishop  Thomas  Ken, 

Abide  with  Me      .... 
Henry  Francis  Lyte. 

God  Be  with  You  Till  We  Meet  Again 
J.  E.  Rankin. 

O  Day  of  Rest  and  Gladness  . 
Bishop  Wordsworth. 

In  This  Consecration  Hour     . 
Howard  Benjamin  Grose. 

Blest  Be  the  Tie  That  Binds  . 

John  Fawcett. 

If  You  Cannot  on  the  Ocean  . 
Ellen  M.  Huntington  Gates. 

Art  Thou  Weary,  Art  Thou  Languid 
John  Mason  Neale. 

Courage,  Brother  !  Do  Not  Stumble 
Norman  Macleod. 

Two  Empires  by  the  Sea 
George  Huntington. 

Summer  Suns  Are  Glowing 
William  Walsham  How. 

Behold  !  a  Stranger  at  the  Door 
Joseph  Grigg. 

Bright  Was  the  Guiding  Star  That  Led 
Harriet  Auber, 


Contents 


Father,  Let  Me  Dedicate 

Lawrence  Tuttiett. 

Oh,  Could  I  Speak  the  Matchless  Worth 

Samuel  Medley. 

Crown  Him  with  Many  Crowns 
Matthew  Bridges, 

O  Love  That  Wilt  Not  Let  Me  Go 
George  Matheson. 

Jesus,  the  Very  Thought  of  Thee    . 

Bernard  of  Clairvaux. 

Majestic  Sweetness  Sits  Enthroned   . 
Samuel  Stennett. 

The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic  . 
Julia  Ward  Howe, 

For  the  Beauty  of  the  Earth     . 
Folliott  Sandford  Pierpoint. 

Onward,  Christian,  Though  the  Region 
Samuel  Johnson. 

0  Golden  Day  So  Long  Desired 

Charles  Albert  Dickinson. 

In  the  Field  with  Their  Flocks 

Frederic  William  Farrar. 

Rise,  My  Soul,  and  Stretch  Thy  Wings 
Robert  Seagrave. 

Sweet  Hour  of  Prayer     . 

William  W.  Walford. 

The  Day  of  Resurrection 
St.  John  of  Damascus. 

While  Thee  I  Seek,  Protecting  Power 

Helen  Maria  Williams. 

1  Love  Thy  Kingdom,  Lord   . 

Timothy  Dwight. 

Hail !  Columbia     .... 
Joseph  Hop  kin  son. 

The  Sands  of  Time  Are  Sinking       . 
Annie  Ross  Cousin. 


8 


Contents 


There  Are  Lonely  Hearts  to  Cherish 
George  Cooper. 

What  Shall  the  Harvest  Be      . 

Emily  Sullivan  Oakey. 

The  God  of  Abraham  Praise   . 
Thomas  Olivers. 

There's  a  Song  in  the  Air 
Josiah  Gilbert  Holland. 

When  Morning  Gilds  the  Skies 
Edward  Caswall. 

Somebody  Did  a  Golden  Deed 
John  R.  Clements. 

O  God,  the  Rock  of  Ages      . 
Edward  Henry  Bicker steth. 

Lord,  It  Belongs  Not  to  My  Care    . 
Richard  Baxter. 

0  Lord,  How  Full  of  Sweet  Content 

Madame  Guy  on. 

Cast  Thy  Burden  on  the  Lord 
Rowland  Hill. 

The  Breaking  Waves  Dashed  High  . 
Felicia  Dorothea  Hemans. 

There  Is  a  Happy  Land 
Andrew  Young. 

1  Am  So  Glad  That  Our  Father  in  Heaven 

P.  P,  Bliss. 

When  He  Cometh 

William  Orcutt  Gushing. 

Day  by  Day  the  Manna  Fell  . 
josiah  Conder. 

Shout  the  Glad  Tidings 

William  Augustus  Muhlenberg, 

Jesus,  Saviour,  Pilot  Me 
Edward  Hopper. 

Let  Us  with  a  Gladsome  Mind 
John  Milton. 


Contents 


We  Give  Thee  Thanks,  O  God,  This  Day 
Robert  M.  Offord. 

Break  Thou  the  Bread  of  Life 
Mary  Artemisia  Lathbury, 

Still,  Still  with  Thee       . 

Harriet  Beecher  Stozve. 

Come,  Ye  Thankful  People,  Come  . 
Henry  Alford. 

Softly  Now  the  Light  of  Day 
George  Washington  Doane. 

Lord  !  While  for  All  Mankind  We  Pray 
John  Reynell  Wreford. 

Come,  Ye  Disconsolate  . 
Thomas  Moore. 

Oh,  Worship  the  King,  All-glorious  Above 
Robert  Grant. 

We  Thank  Thee,  Lord,  for  This  Fair  Earth 
George  Edward  Lynch  Cotton, 

Once  in  Royal  David's  City    . 
Cecil  Frances  Alexander. 

While  Shepherds  Watched  Their  Flocks  by  Night 
Nahum  Tate. 

Great  God  !  We  Sing  Thy  Mighty  Hand 

Philip  Doddridge. 

Father,  I  Know  That^All  My  Life  . 
Anna  Laetitia  Waring. 

O,  Where  Are  Kings  and  Empires  Now 
Arthur  Cleveland  Coxe. 

Come,  Said  Jesus'  Sacred  Voice 
Anna  Laetitia  Barbauld. 

That  Sweet  Story  of  Old 
Jemima  Luke. 

The  Star-Spangled  Banner       .  .     . 

Francis  Scott  Key. 

Lord  of  All  Being,  Throned  Afar     . 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 


"All  Hail  the  Power  of  Jesus'  Name/' 
Edward  Perronet. 

THIS,  one  of  the  greatest  of  hymns,  was  written 
by  Edward  Perronet,  and  is  the  one  thing  that 
has  kept  his  name  green  in  the  earth. 

Nevertheless,  Perronet  was  a  man  worth  knowing 
about,  quite  apart  from  his  magnificent  hymn.  He 
was  descended  from  French  Protestants,  and  his 
father  was  an  English  clergyman  who  joined  the 
Wesleys  in  carrying  on  their  great  revival  of  religion. 

His  son  Edward  also  became  a  clergyman,  and  for 
a  time  labored  with  the  Wesleys.  Charles  Wesley 
writes  of  his  boldness  in  preaching.  At  one  time 
he  and  Perronet  were  beset  in  a  house  by  a  mob 
of  rough  revilers,  whom  Perronet  opposed  coura- 
geously, while  they  abused  him  and  threw  dirt  on 
him. 

In  his  note-book,  three  years  later,  Charles  Wesley 
speaks  of  a  journey  he  made  to  London,  with  his 
brother  John  and  with  Perronet.  **  We  were  in  perils 
of  robbers,  who  were  abroad,  and  had  robbed  many 
the  night  before,"  writes  Wesley.  But,  he  stoutly 
adds,  **  We  commended  ourselves  to  God,  and  rode 
over  the  heath  singing."  What  a  scene  that  must 
have  been  I 

John  Wesley  wanted  to  hear  Perronet  preach,  and 
Perronet,  for  some  reason,  would  not  preach  before 

13 


14  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Wesley.  One  day  Wesley,  seeing  Perronet  in  the 
congregation,  announced  that  he  would  preach  the 
next  morning.  Perronet  did  not  want  to  make  a 
scene,  so  the  next  morning  he  mounted  the  pulpit, 
explained  that  he  had  not  consented  to  preach  and 
felt  that  he  could  not,  but  nevertheless  he  would  give 
them  the  best  sermon  that  had  ever  been  delivered. 
Thereupon  he  opened  the  Bible,  and  read  the  Ser- 
mon on  the  Mount  from  beginning  to  end,  and  with- 
out a  word  of  comment.  A  song  and  prayer  finished 
the  service. 

After  eight  years  of  co-operation  with  the  Wesleys, 
Perronet  left  them,  disagreeing  with  some  of  their 
regulations.  They  continued,  however,  to  esteem 
and  love  each  other. 

The  last  years  of  Perronet  were  spent  at  Canter- 
bury, where  he  was  pastor  of  an  independent  church, 
and  where  he  died  in  1792,  at  the  age  of  sixty-six. 

He  published  three  volumes  of  religious  poems, 
one  being  made  up  of  versified  Scripture.  Some 
of  these  poems  deserve  to  be  widely  used,  as,  for 
instance,  the  hymn  containing  the  stanza : — 

"  O  grant  me,  Lord,  that  sweet  content 
That  sweetens  every  state ; 
Which  no  internal  fears  can  rent, 
Nor  outward  foes  abate." 


None  of  Perronet's  poems,  however,  have  attained 
fame  except  the  immortal  **A11  hail  the  power  of 
Jesus'  name."  It  was  written  in  1779,  and  was  first 
printed,  in  1 780,  in  The  Gospel  Magazine.     The  poet 


All  Hail  the  Power  of  Jesus*  Name  15 

gave  it  the  title,  *'  On  the  Resurrection,"  and  as  he 
wrote  it,  there  were  eight  stanzas,  as  follows : — 

All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name, 

Let  angels  prostrate  fall ; 
Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem, 

To  crown  Him  Lord  of  all  1 

Let  high  born  seraphs  tune  the  lyre, 

And,  as  they  tune  it,  fall 
Before  His  face  who  tunes  their  choir. 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! 

Crown  Him,  ye  morning  stars  of  light, 

Who  fixed  this  floating  ball, 
Now  hail  the  Strength  of  Israel's  might. 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! 

Crown  Him,  ye  martyrs  of  your  God, 

Who  from  His  altar  call ; 
Extol  the  stem  of  Jesse's  rod. 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all  ! 

Ye  seed  of  Israel's  chosen  race, 

Ye  ransomed  of  the  fall, 
Hail  Him  who  saves  you  by  His  grace 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all  ! 

Hail  Him,  ye  heirs  of  David's  line, 

Whom  David  Lord  did  call, 
The  God  incarnate,  Man  divine. 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all  ! 

Sinners,  whose  love  can  ne'er  forget 

The  wormwood  and  the  gall, 
Go  spread  your  trophies  at  His  feet, 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all ! 


i6  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Let  every  tribe  and  every  tongue 

That  bound  creation's  call 
Now  shout  in  universal  song, 

The  crowned  Lord  of  all ! 

As  it  now  stands  in  our  hymn-books,  the  hymn 
is  shortened  and  changed,  and  one  stanza  has  been 
added : — 

"  Oh,  that  with  yonder  sacred  throng 
We  at  His  feet  may  fall ; 
We'll  join  the  everlasting  song. 
And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all." 

This  last  stanza  was  added  by  the  famous  hymn 
collector.  Rev.  John  Rippon,  in  1787. 

At  first  the  hymn  was  sung  to  the  tune  of  **  Miles' 
Lane,"  written  for  the  hymn  by  William  Shrubsole, 
a  London  organist,  in  1780.  Now,  however,  we  use 
the  tune  **  Coronation,"  which  was  composed  in 
1792,  the  year  Perronet  died,  by  Oliver  Holden,  a 
carpenter  of  Charlestown,  Mass.  Holden's  queer  old 
organ,  on  which  this  glorious  tune  was  first  played, 
is  still  to  be  seen  in  Boston. 

The  most  famous  story  connected  with  Perronet's 
great  hymn  is  told  of  the  missionary  to  India,  Rev. 
E.  P.  Scott.  One  day  he  saw  on  the  street  a  man 
of  so  strange  an  appearance  that  he  inquired  about 
him,  and  learned  that  he  belonged  to  a  wild  moun- 
tain tribe  among  whom  Christ  had  never  been 
preached.  Mr.  Scott  prayed  over  the  matter,  and 
decided  to  visit  that  tribe. 

As  soon  as  he  reached  their  mountain  home,  he 
fell  in  with  a  savage  band  who  were  on  a  war  expe- 


All  Hail  the  Power  of  Jesus'  Name  17 

edition.  They  seized  him,  and  pointed  their  spears 
at  his  heart. 

At  once  the  missionary  drew  out  the  violin  that 
he  always  carried  with  him,  and  began  to  play  and 
sing  in  the  native  language,  '*  All  hail  the  power  of 
Jesus'  name  I "  He  closed  his  eyes,  expecting  death 
at  any  minute.  When  he  reached  the  third  stanza, 
as  nothing  had  happened,  he  opened  his  eyes,  and 
was  amazed  to  see  that  the  spears  had  fallen  from 
the  hands  of  the  savages,  and  big  tears  were  in  their 
eyes  1 

They  invited  Mr.  Scott  to  their  homes,  and  he 
spent  two  and  a  half  years  among  them,  winning 
many  of  them  to  Christ.  When  poor  health  com- 
pelled him  to  return  to  America,  they  followed  him 
for  thirty  or  forty  miles,  begging  him  to  come  back 
again.  This  he  did,  and  continued  to  work  among 
them  until  his  death. 


"  A  Mighty  Fortress  is  Our  God/' 
Martin  Luther. 

MARTIN  LUTHER  was  born  in  Eisleben,  Ger- 
many, in  1483,  a  poor  miner's  son.  His  heart 
was  full  of  music  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  he  used  to 
sing  from  door  to  door.  After  he  became  a  man, 
and  had  led  in  the  great  revolt  from  the  superstitions, 
sins,  and  injustices  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church, 
he  did  two  things  that  more  than  all  others  estab- 
lished Protestantism  firmly, — he  translated  the  Bible 
into  the  language  of  the  common  people,  and  he 
wrote  hymns  also  in  their  every-day  language,  to  be 
sung  to  attractive,  familiar  tunes. 

The  first  printed  hymn-book  was  published  at  Wit- 
tenberg in  1524, — eight  hymns  with  tunes,  and  four 
of  them  by  Luther.  Since  that  beginning  it  is  said 
that  Germans  have  written  more  than  100,000  hymns, 
and  the  greatest  of  all  is  this  hymn  of  Luther's. 
Luther  wrote  some  thirty-six  hymns  in  all,  but  this 
is  his  noblest.  Some  say  that  the  strong  tune  to 
which  the  hymn  is  always  sung  was  composed  by 
Luther,  but  he  probably  merely  adapted  a  tune  al- 
ready in  existence. 

The  hymn  was  written  about  1528,  and  though 
many  attempts  have  been  made  to  associate  it  with 
various  stirring  events  in  the  life  of  the  great  re- 
former, it  is  not  known  what  occasion  prompted  it. 

18 


A  Mighty  Fortress  is  Our  God  19 

He  based  it  on  the  Forty-sixth  Psalm,  but  it  does  not 
follow  the  course  of  the  psalm ;  it  merely  catches  up 
and  carries  on  the  psalm's  leading  thought. 

Whatever  its  origin,  *'  Ein'  Feste  Burg  ist  Unser 
Gott "  had  an  immediate  influence  in  Germany,  and 
became  for  the  Reformation  what  the  great  French 
hymn,  La  Marseillaise,  became  to  France.  It  is  now 
the  national  hymn  of  the  Fatherland. 

Says  Dr.  Benson  : 

*'  It  was  sung  at  Augsburg  during  the  Diet,  and  in 
all  the  churches  of  Saxony,  often  against  the  protest 
of  the  priest.  It  was  sung  in  the  streets ;  and,  so 
heard,  comforted  the  hearts  of  Melanchthon,  Jonas, 
and  Cruciger,  as  they  entered  Weimar,  when  ban- 
ished from  Wittenberg  in  1547. 

*'  It  was  sung  by  poor  Protestant  emigrants  on 
their  way  into  exile,  and  by  martyrs  at  their  death. 
It  is  woven  into  the  web  of  history  of  Reformation 
times,  and  it  became  the  true  national  hymn  of  Prot- 
estant Germany. 

**  Gustavus  Adolphus  ordered  it  sung  by  his  army 
before  the  battle  of  Leipzig,  in  1631,  and  on  the  field 
of  that  battle  it  was  repeated,  more  than  two  cen- 
turies afterward,  by  the  throng  assembled  at  the  jubi- 
lee of  the  Gustavus  Adolphus  Association.  Again  it 
was  the  battle  hymn  of  his  army  at  Liitzen,  in  1632, 
in  which  the  king  was  slain,  but  his  army  won  the 
victory. 

"  It  has  had  a  part  in  countless  celebrations  com- 
memorating the  men  and  events  of  the  Reformation  ; 
and  its  first  line  is  engraved  on  the  base  of  Luther's 
monument  at  Wittenberg." 


20  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Luther  comforted  his  own  heart  with  the  hymn, 
and  when  his  great  cause  seemed  almost  lost  he 
would  turn  to  his  friend  Melanchthon  and  say, 
**  Come,  Philip,  let  us  sing  the  Forty-sixth  Psalm." 

There  is  a  story  of  the  use  of  it  by  the  German 
troops  lodged  in  a  church  after  the  battle  of  Sedan. 
They  were  too  excited  to  sleep.  At  last  some  one 
began  to  play  Luther's  hymn  upon  the  organ.  The 
soldiers  united  in  a  splendid  outburst  of  song,  after 
which  they  fell  into  peaceful  slumber. 

The  hymn  has  been  translated  into  English  more 
than  eighty  times,  but  only  twice  with  such  success 
that  the  result  has  won  popular  favor.  In  England, 
they  sing  the  translation  made  by  Thomas  Carlyle, 
who  was  the  one  that  introduced  the  hymn  in  that 
land,  in  1831.     His  first  stanza  is  : 

A  sure  stronghold  our  God  is  He, 

A  trusty  shield  and  weapon ; 
Our  help  He'll  be,  and  set  us  free 

From  every  ill  can  happen. 
That  old  malicious  foe 
Intends  us  deadly  woe ; 
Armed  with  might  from  hell 
And  deepest  craft  as  well, 

On  earth  is  not  his  fellow. 

Our  favorite  American  version  is  that  by  Rev. 
Frederic  Henry  Hedge,  a  great  German  scholar, 
himself  a  poet  of  no  mean  ability,  whose  translation 
appeared  in  1852.  Longfellow  has  a  version  in  his 
"  Golden  Legend,"  and  one  of  Whittier's  war  poems 
is  in  Luther's  metre,  and  is  called,  **  Ein'  Feste  Burg 
ist  Unser  Gott/'     Here  is  Dr.  Hedge's  translation  : 


A  Mighty  Fortress  is  Our  God  21 

A  mighty  Fortress  is  our  God, 

A  Bulwark  never  failing; 
Our  Helper  He  amid  the  flood 

Of  mortal  ills  prevailing  : 
For  still  our  ancient  foe 
Doth  seek  to  work  us  woe ; 
His  craft  and  power  are  great, 
And,  armed  with  cruel  hate, 

On  earth  is  not  his  equal. 

Did  we  in  our  own  strength  confide, 

Our  striving  would  be  losing ; 
Were  not  the  right  man  on  our  side, 

The  man  of  God's  own  choosing  : 
Dost  ask  who  that  may  be  ? 
Christ  Jesus,  it  is  He ; 
Lord  Sabaoth  His  name, 
From  age  to  age  the  same, 

And  He  must  win  the  battle. 

And  though  this  world,  with  devils  filled, 

Should  threaten  to  undo  us  ; 
We  will  not  fear,  for  God  hath  willed 

His  truth  to  triumph  through  us. 
The  prince  of  darkness  grim, — 
We  tremble  not  for  him  ; 
His  rage  we  can  endure. 
For  lo  !  his  doom  is  sure. 

One  little  word  shall  fell  him. 

That  word  above  all  earthly  powers. 

No  thanks  to  them,  abideth  ; 
The  Spirit  and  the  gifts  are  ours 

Through  Him  who  with  us  sideth : 
Let  goods  and  kindred  go, 
This  mortal  life  also ; 
The  body  they  may  kill : 
God's  truth  abideth  still, 

His  kingdom  is  for  ever. 


"  Calm  on  the  Listening  Ear  of  Night/' 
Edmund  Hamilton  Sears. 

TO  be  the  author  of  two  of  the  most  famous  and 
helpful  of  Christmas  hymns  is  glory  enough  for 
any  man.  That  was  the  blessed  result  of  the  life  of 
Rev.  Edmund  Hamilton  Sears,  D.  D.  He  was  a 
busy  pastor ;  he  wrote  four  or  five  books  and  many 
other  poems,  but  long  after  all  his  other  work  is 
forgotten  those  two  Christmas  hymns  will  be  re- 
membered and  sung. 

Dr.  Sears  was  born,  lived,  and  died  in  a  narrow 
region  in  Massachusetts.  His  birth  was  in  1810,  at 
Sandisfield,  and  his  death  was  on  January  14,  1876, 
at  Weston.  He  was  a  Swedenborgian  in  belief,  but 
he  was  the  pastor  of  Unitarian  churches. 

When  he  was  a  young  man,  in  1834,  Mr.  Sears 
wrote  the  first  of  his  two  splendid  Christmas  odes ; 
when  he  was  in  the  prime  of  Hfe,  in  1850,  he  wrote 
the  second,  ''  It  came  upon  the  midnight  clear."  It 
is  the  first  that  is  here  given,  the  lovely  Advent  poem, 
*'  Calm  on  the  listening  ear  of  night."  The  two 
hymns  are  alike  and  yet  different.  In  Dr.  Sears's 
volume,  "  Sermons  and  Songs,"  they  stand,  the  one 
preceding  and  the  other  following  a  sermon  for 
Christmas  Eve  on  i  Tim.  2 :  6.  And  here  is  our 
hymn,  just  as  it  appears  in  that  book : — 

22 


Calm  on  the  Listening  Ear  of  Night  23 

Calm  on  the  listening  ear  of  night 

Come  heaven's  melodious  strains, 
Where  wild  Judaea  stretches  forth 

Her  silver  mantled  plains ; 
Celestial  choirs  from  courts  above 

Shed  sacred  glories  there, 
And  angels,  with  their  sparkhng  lyres, 

Make  music  on  the  air. 


The  answering  hills  of  Palestine 

Send  back  the  glad  reply. 
And  greet  from  all  their  holy  heights 

The  Day-Spring  from  on  high ; 
O'er  the  blue  depths  of  Galilee, 

There  comes  a  holier  calm. 
And  Sharon  waves,  in  solemn  praise. 

Her  silent  groves  of  palm. 

Glory  to  God  !  "     The  lofty  strain 

The  realm  of  ether  fills ; 
How  sweeps  the  song  of  solemn  joy 

O'er  Judah's  sacred  hills  ! 
Glory  to  God  !  "     The  sounding  skies 

Loud  with  their  anthems  ring, 
Peace  on  the  earth ;  good  will  to  men 

From  heaven's  Eternal  King." 

Light  on  thy  hills,  Jerusalem  ! 

The  Saviour  now  is  born. 
And  bright  on  Bethlehem's  joyous  plains 

Breaks  the  first  Christmas  morn. 
And  brightly  on  Moriah's  brow 

Crowned  with  her  temple  spires, 
Which  first  proclaim  the  new-born  light, 

Clothed  w4th  its  orient  fires. 


24  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

This  day  shall  Christian  tongues  be  mute, 

And  Christian  hearts  be  cold  ? 
Oh,  catch  the  anthem  that  from  heaven 

O'er  Judah's  mountains  rolled, 
When  burst  upon  that  listening  night 

The  high  and  solemn  lay  : 
<'  Glory  to  God,  on  earth  be  peace," 

Salvation  comes  to-day  ! 


"  O  Little  Town  of  Bethlehem." 

Bishop  Brooks, 

WHEN  Phillips  Brooks,  the  beloved  and  great 
preacher,  was  a  boy,  his  parents  had  him  and 
his  brothers  learn  hymns.  They  used  to  enjoy  re- 
citing them  on  Sunday  evenings,  and  when  Phillips 
went  to  college  he  could  repeat  some  two  hundred 
of  them.  He  never  forgot  them,  and  they  often  came 
up  in  his  wonderful  sermons. 

It  is  not  at  all  surprising,  then,  that  Phillips  Brooks 
began  to  write  hymns  himself.  He  often  composed 
poems,  and  some  of  his  poems  have  become  very 
dear  to  all  Christians.  One  of  the  best  of  these  is 
the  beautiful  Christmas  hymn  that  we  have  chosen 
for  our  study. 

It  is  not  at  all  surprising,  either,  that  the  great 
preacher  should  write  poems  for  children.  He  loved 
all  children,  and  liked  nothing  better,  giant  of  a  man 
as  he  was,  than  to  get  down  on  the  floor  and  romp 
with  them.  He  often  wrote  letters  to  his  child  friends, 
and  these  letters  are  among  the  most  delightful  bits 
of  his  writing. 

Mr.  Brooks  preached  in  Philadelphia  first,  and 
then  in  Boston.  Our  hymn  was  written  when  he 
was  rector  of  the  Holy  Trinity  Church  of  Phila- 
delphia, and  for  his  Sunday-school.     It  was  used  by 

25 


26  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

the  children  at  their  Christmas  service  in  the  year 
1868.  How  Uttle  they  understood  what  a  famous 
song  they  were  singing  for  the  first  time ! 

The  lovely  tune,  **  St.  Louis,"  to  which  the  hymn 
is  usually  sung,  was  written  for  it  at  that  time  by 
Mr.  Lewis  H.  Redner,  the  organist  of  the  church, 
the  superintendent  of  the  Sunday-school,  and  teacher 
of  one  of  the  classes.  It  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  before  that  Christmas  service  that  Mr.  Redner 
woke  up  suddenly  with  angelic  strains  ringing  in  his 
ears.  He  took  a  piece  of  music-paper  and  jotted 
down  the  melody  of  the  tune ;  then  the  next  morn- 
ing, before  going  to  church,  he  filled  in  the  harmony. 
So  little  did  he,  too,  understand  what  a  great  thing 
he  was  doing. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  the  churches  realized  the 
beauty  of  the  song.  Not  until  1892  was  the  hymn 
admitted  to  the  hymnal  of  Bishop  Brooks's  own 
denomination. 

Here  is  the  Christmas  carol,  as  Phillips  Brooks 
wrote  it.  The  fourth  stanza  is  unfamiliar,  because 
the  writer  himself  left  it  out  of  the  later  copies  of  the 
poem ;  but  you  will  want  to  see  it. 


O  little  town  of  Bethlehem, 

How  still  we  see  thee  lie  ! 
Above  thy  deep  and  dreamless  sleep 

The  silent  stars  go  by  : 
Yet  in  thy  dark  streets  shineth 

The  everlasting  Light ; 
The  hopes  and  fears  of  all  the  years 

Are  met  in  thee  to-night. 


O  Little  Town  of  Bethlehem  27 

For  Christ  is  born  of  Mary ; 

And  gathered  all  above, 
While  mortals  sleep,  the  angels  keep 

Their  watch  of  wondering  love. 
O  morning  stars  together 

Proclaim  the  holy  birth ; 
And  praises  sing  to  God  the  King, 

And  peace  to  men  on  earth. 

How  silently,  how  silently, 

The  wondrous  Gift  is  given  ! 
So  God  imparts  to  human  hearts 

The  blessings  of  His  heaven. 
No  ear  may  hear  His  coming. 

But  in  this  world  of  sin. 
Where  meek  souls  will  receive  Him  still, 

The  dear  Christ  enters  in. 

Where  children  pure  and  happy 

Pray  to  the  blessed  Child, 
Where  misery  cries  out  to  Thee, 

Son  of  the  Mother  mild  ; 
Where  Charity  stands  watching. 

And  Faith  holds  wide  the  Door, 
The  dark  night  wakes,  the  glory  breaks, 

And  Christmas  comes  once  more. 

O  holy  Child  of  Bethlehem, 

Descend  to  us,  we  pray ; 
Cast  out  our  sin,  and  enter  in, 

Be  born  in  us  to-day. 
We  hear  the  Christmas  angels 

The  great  glad  tidings  tell ; 
O  come  to  us,  abide  with  us. 

Our  Lord  Emmanuel. 


"  From  Greenland's  Icy  Mountains." 
Bishop  Heber, 

ONE  of  the  greatest  and  noblest  of  all  hymn- 
writers  is  Reginald  Heber.  He  was  born  April 
21,  1783,  at  Malpas,  Cheshire,  England.  His  father 
gave  him  every  advantage,  and  he  made  the  best  use 
of  his  opportunities.  He  became  a  distinguished  poet 
when  a  young  man  at  Oxford.  The  first  year  after 
entering,  when  only  seventeen  years  old,  he  took  a 
prize  for  a  Latin  poem,  and  two  years  afterward  he 
won  a  prize  by  a  remarkable  poem  on  Palestine, 
which  was  received  with  such  applause  as  had  never 
before  been  heard  in  that  sedate  gathering.  After 
this  success  his  parents  found  him  on  his  knees  in 
grateful  prayer. 

He  became  a  minister  of  the  Church  of  England, 
and  began  to  write  hymns.  It  was  just  becoming 
the  custom  to  use  hymns  in  Episcopal  churches,  and 
there  were  no  hymn-books. 

The  Christians  of  England  were  aroused  at  that 
time  to  the  great  call  of  foreign  missions,  and  a  col- 
lection was  ordered  to  be  taken  for  that  object  in  all 
the  churches. 

On  Saturday,  May  29,  18 19,  young  Heber  hap- 
pened to  be  visiting  his  father-in-law,  in  whose  church 
he  was  to  preach  the  next  day.  This  collection  was 
to  be  taken,  and  a  suitable  hymn  was  wanted.  They 
asked  Heber  to  write  one. 

28 


From  Greenland's  Icy  Mountains  29 

.  He  retired  to  another  part  of  the  room,  and  in  a 
short  time  read  the  first  three  stanzas  of  his  famous 
hymn. 

**  There  !     That  will  do  very  well,"  they  told  him. 

"  No,  no,  the  sense  is  not  complete,"  answered 
Heber ;  so  he  added  the  splendid  fourth  stanza,  the 
entire  hymn  being  as  follows,  according  to  the  poet's 
own  manuscript,  which  has  fortunately  been  preserved 
for  us  (bringing  $210  when  sold, — a  sum  larger  than 
the  missionary  collection  received  when  it  was  first 
sung)  :— 

From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 

From  India's  coral  strand, 
Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 

Roll  down  their  golden  strand. 
From  many  an  ancient  river, 

From  many  a  palmy  plain, 
They  call  us  to  deliver 

Their  land  from  error's  chain. 

What  though  the  spicy  breezes 

Blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  isle  ; 
Though  every  prospect  pleases, 

And  only  man  is  vile : 
In  vain  with  lavish  kindness 

The  gifts  of  God  are  strown  ; 
The  heathen  in  his  blindness 

Bows  down  to  wood  and  stone. 


Can  we,  whose  souls  are  lighted 
With  wisdom  from  on  high, 

Can  we  to  men  benighted 
The  lamp  of  life  deny? 


30  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Salvation  !     O  salvation  ! 

The  joyful  sound  proclaim, 
Till  each  remotest  nation 

Has  learned  Messiah's  Name. 

Waft,  waft,  ye  winds,  His  story, 

And  you,  ye  waters,  roll. 
Till  like  a  sea  of  glory 

It  spreads  from  pole  to  pole ; 
Till  o'er  our  ransomed  nature 

The  Lamb  for  sinners  slain, 
Redeemer,  King,  Creator, 

In  bliss  returns  to  reign. 

The  beautiful  and  stirring  tune  to  which  the  hymn 
is  always  sung  was  written  as  rapidly  as  the  hymn 
itself. 

A  printed  copy  of  the  poem  reached  Miss  Mary  W. 
Howard,  of  Savannah,  Ga.  She  admired  it  greatly, 
and  wanted  a  tune  for  it.  The  metre  was  a  new  one 
at  that  time.  So  Miss  Howard  sent  the  poem  to 
Lowell  Mason,  then  a  young  bank  clerk  and  singing- 
teacher  in  Savannah.  In  half  an  hour  he  sent  back 
the  '*  Missionary  Hymn "  tune  that  is  universally 
used. 

When  Heber  was  forty  years  old,  he  became  first 
bishop  of  Calcutta.  He  refused  the  appointment 
twice,  for  he  dearly  loved  his  quiet  home  and  church, 
but  his  sense  of  duty  finally  compelled  him  to  ac- 
cept. As  he  went  out  to  the  India  of  which  he  had 
sung,  he  had  an  opportunity  to  breathe  the  "  spicy 
breezes  "  that  *'  blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  isle,"  and  that 
carry  the  fragrance  of  the  aromatic  forests  far  out  to 
sea. 


From  Greenland's  Icy  Mountains  31 

His  duties  and  authority  extended  all  over  India, 
Ceylon,  Mauritius,  and  Australasia.  He  entered 
upon  his  work  with  great  energy.  It  was  he  who 
ordained  the  first  native  minister.  Christian  David. 
He  traveled  far  and  wide,  but  the  climate  and  the 
heavy  tasks  quite  wore  him  out.  In  less  than  three 
years,  on  April  3,  1826,  the  good  bishop  suddenly 
died. 

Heber  was  greatly  beloved.  Thackeray  called 
him  **  one  of  the  best  of  English  gentlemen."  He 
wrote  fifty-seven  hymns,  which  were  published  after 
his  death  in  one  book.  It  is  said  that  every  one  of 
these  hymns  is  in  use — an  honor  paid  to  no  other 
hymn-writer  that  ever  lived. 

His  missionary  hymn  is  his  most  famous  produc- 
tion, and  some  one  has  ventured  to  say  that  it  has 
accomplished  as  much  for  foreign  missions  as  all  the 
missionary  sermons  ever  preached, — a  statement  he 
would  be  the  first  to  rebuke. 

But  Heber  wrote  other  great  hymns,  the  greatest 
being  the  noblest  hymn  of  adoration  in  the  language, 
*'  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  Almighty  1 "  Tenny- 
son pronounced  this  the  finest  hymn  ever  written  in 
any  language. 

He  also  wrote  the  noblest  warrior  hymn  ever 
composed :  *'  The  Son  of  God  goes  forth  to 
war."  Another  favorite  is  his  "  Brightest  and  best 
of  the  sons  of  the  morning."  Still  others  are : 
**  By  cool  Siloam's  shady  rill,"  **  Lord  of  mercy 
and  of  might,"  and  "  Bread  of  the  world  in  mercy 
broken." 

Altogether,  though    not  the  greatest  of  English 


32  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

hymn-writers,  Heber  may  fairly  be  called  the  most 
poetical  of  them  all ;  and  his  beautiful  personal  char- 
acter, when  one  knows  about  it,  adds  a  new  beauty 
to  his  lovely  hymns. 


"Speed  Away!" 

Faitny  Crosby. 

FANNY  CROSBY  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  the 
world's  hymn-writers  ;  perhaps  only  Watts  and 
Wesley  would  rank  above  her.  She  is  great  in  the 
number  of  her  hymns — more  than  three  thousand, 
and  in  the  large  number  of  them  that  have  found 
favor  with  Christians  and  seem  destined  to  live  for- 
ever. To  name  only  a  few,  what  immortal  glory 
belongs  to  the  author  of  **  Pass  me  not,  O  gentle 
Saviour,"  **  Rescue  the  perishing,"  **  I  am  Thine,  O 
Lord,"  ''Blessed  assurance,  Jesus  is  mine,"  ''Jesus, 
keep  me  near  the  cross,"  "  'Tis  the  blessed  hour  of 
prayer,"  "Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus,"  "Some  day 
the  silver  cord  will  break,"  "  Thou,  my  everlasting 
portion,"  "  Saviour,  more  than  life  to  me,"  "  All  the 
way  my  Saviour  leads  me,"  "  Hide  Thou  me,"  "Jesus 
is  tenderly  calling  thee  home,"  "  Lord,  at  Thy  mercy- 
seat  humbly  I  fall,"  and  many  other  hymns  almost 
as  well  known. 

Frances  Jane  Crosby  was  born  in  Southeast,  N.  Y., 
on  March  24,  1820.  She  is  ninety-four  years  old  as 
this  book  is  published,  but  is  still,  I  believe,  in  excel- 
lent health. 

She  has  been  blind  since  she  was  six  months  old, 
but  she  is  of  a  happy,  contented  disposition,  and 

33 


34  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

refuses  to  be  pitied  because  of  her  great  affliction. 
Indeed,  when  only  eight  years  old  she  wrote  : — 

*'  O  what  a  happy  soul  am  I ! 

Although  1  cannot  see, 
I  am  resolved  that  in  this  world 

Contented  I  will  be; 
How  many  blessings  I  enjoy 

That  other  people  don't ! 
To  weep  and  sigh  because  I'm  blind, 

I  cannot,  and  I  won't." 

Fanny  Crosby  spent  twelve  years  as  a  pupil  in  the 
New  York  Institution  for  the  blind,  and  there  she  was 
a  teacher  from  1847  to  1858,  teaching  language  and 
history.  While  she  was  yet  a  pupil  she  was  a  splen- 
did illustration  of  what  education  can  do  for  the 
blind,  and  once  she  recited  a  poem  on  the  subject 
before  the  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  at 
Washington,  and  also  before  the  governor  and  legis- 
lature of  New  Jersey. 

In  1845  she  began  to  write  words  for  the  music  of 
George  F.  Root,  who  became  music-teacher  in  the 
institution.  Many  of  these  songs  became  famous, 
and  the  royalties  on  one  of  them,  **  Rosalie,  the 
Prairie  Flower,"  amounted  to  nearly  three  thou- 
sand dollars.  Another  well-known  song  of  hers  is 
"There's  music  in  the  air." 

It  was  not,  however,  till  February  5,  1864,  that  she 
wrote  her  first  hymn.  It  was  written  for  W.  B.  Brad- 
bury, and  ever  since  that  time  he,  and  his  successors, 
Biglow  and  Main,  have  been  her  publishers,  accept- 
ing and  paying  for  all  that  she  writes.     She  has 


Speed  Away  35 


written  many  hymns  for  such  singers  and  composers 
as  Sankey,  Doane,  Lowry,  Philip  Phillips,  Sweney, 
Sherwin  and  Kirkpatrick.  Her  songs  have  blessed 
thousands  of  lives,  and  there  is  scarcely  one  of  them 
but  has  won  many  souls  to  the  Saviour. 

In  1858  Miss  Crosby  was  married  to  another  pupil 
of  the  institution,  Alexander  Van  Alstyne,  a  musi- 
cian. She  sometimes  uses  her  full  name,  but  often 
signs  her  hymns  with  pen  names :  A.,  C,  D.  H.  W., 
V.  A.,  Ella  Dale ;  Jenny  V.,  Mrs.  Jenie  Glenn,  Mrs. 
Kate  Grinley,  Viola,  Grace  J.  Francis,  Mrs.  C.  M. 
Wilson,  Lizzie  Edwards,  Henrietta  E.  Blair,  Rose 
Atherton,  Maud  Marion,  Leah  Carlton,  and  still 
others ! 

She  writes  very  rapidly,  and  some  of  her  most 
famous  hymns  have  been  dictated  almost  as  fast  as 
the  words  could  be  taken  down.  Her  hymns  are 
full  of  the  Bible  with  which  her  memory  is  stored. 
When  she  was  a  mere  child  she  committed  to  mem- 
ory the  first  four  books  of  the  Old  Testament  and 
the  four  Gospels. 

In  her  home  at  Bridgeport,  Conn.,  the  aged  singer 
sits  peacefully  awaiting  the  call  to  the  world  where 
she  shall  see  all  beautiful  things  and  shall  join — and 
what  voice  will  be  sweeter  ? — in  the  song  of  Moses 
and  the  Lamb. 

The  hymn  by  her  which  we  have  chosen  as  char- 
acteristic is  ** Speed  away" — a  song  that  has  done 
much  to  arouse  interest  in  missions.  It  has  become 
the  missionary  farewell  hymn,  being  sung  at  the 
parting  with  hundreds  of  missionaries  as  they  set 
out  upon  their  noble  errands. 


36  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Speed  away  !  speed  away  on  your  mission  of  light, 
To  the  lands  that  are  lying  in  darkness  and  night ; 
'Tis  the  Master's  command ;  go  ye  forth  in  His  name, 
The  wonderful  gospel  of  Jesus  proclaim ; 
Take  your  lives  in  your  hand,  to  the  work  while  'tis  day, 
Speed  away  !  speed  away  !  speed  away  ! 

Speed  away,  speed  away  with  the  life-giving  Word, 
To  the  nations  that  know  not  the  voice  of  the  Lord ; 
Take  the  wings  of  the  morning  and  fly  o'er  the  wave. 
In  the  strength  of  your  Master  the  lost  ones  to  save ; 
He  is  calling  once  more,  not  a  moment's  delay. 
Speed  away  !  speed  away  !  speed  away  ! 

Speed  away,  speed  away  with  the  message  of  rest. 
To  the  souls  by  the  tempter  in  bondage  oppressed  ; 
For  the  Saviour  has  purchased  their  ransom  from  sin. 
And  the  banquet  is  ready.     O  gather  them  in ; 
To  the  rescue  make  haste,  there's  no  time  for  delay. 
Speed  away  !  speed  away  !  speed  away  1 


"How  Firm  a  Foundation." 

Probably  by  Robert  Keene. 

OUR  modern  hymn-books  give  but  six  of  the 
seven  original  stanzas  of  the  hymn,  '*  How 
firm  a  foundation."  We  give  here  the  entire  hymn. 
It  first  appeared  in  a  book  entitled  "■  A  Selection 
of  Hymns  from  the  Best  Authors,"  published  in  1787 
by  a  Baptist  minister  of  London,  Dr.  John  Rippon, 
who,  though  an  ardent  admirer  of  Watts,  desired  to 
have  some  hymns  in  addition  to  those  by  the  great 
hymn-writer.  Many  of  the  hymns  in  his  collection 
were  there  gathered  for  the  first  time,  and  have  been 
in  use  ever  since.  We  print  the  hymn  precisely  as 
it  stood  in  Dr.  Rippon's  book,  old  style  s's  and  all : 

SCRIPTURE  PROMISES 
CXXVIII.     Elevens.     K 


Exceeding  great  and  precious  Fromifes,  2  Pet.  iii.  4 

1  How  firm  a  Foundation,  ye  Saints  of  the  Lord, 
Is  laid  for  your  Faith  in  his  excellent  Word  ; 
What  more  can  he  fay  than  to  you  he  hath  faid? 
You,  who  unto  Jesus  for  Refuge  have  fled. 

2  In  every  Condition,  in  Sicknefs,  in  Health, 
In  Poverty's  Vale,  or  abounding  in  Wealth  ; 

At  Home  and  Abroad,  on  the  Land,  on  the  Sea, 

"As  thy  Days  may  deniand,  fhall  thy  Strength  ever  be. 

37 


38  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

3  '<  Fear  not,  I  am  with  thee,  O  be  not  difmay'd, 
**  I,  I  am  thy  God,  and  will  ftill  give  thee  Aid  ; 

"  I'll  ftrengthen  thee,  help  thee,  and  caufe  thee  to  ftand, 
*<  Upheld  by  my  righteous  omnipotent  Hand. 

4  "  When  thro'  the  deep  Waters  I  call  thee  to  go, 
**  The  Rivers  of  Woe  f  hall  not  thee  overflow ; 

**  For  I  will  be  with  thee,  thy  Troubles  to  blefs, 
"  And  fanctify  to  thee,  thy  deepeft  Diftrefs. 

5  "  When  thro'  fiery  Trials  thy  Pathway  fhall  lie, 
"  My  Grace  all  fufficient  fhall  be  thy  Supply ; 
**  The  Flame  fhall  not  hurt  thee,  I  only  defign 
"  Thy  Drofs  to  confume,  and  thy  Gold  to  refine. 

6  *'  Even  down  to  old  Age,  all  my  People  fhall  prove 
'<  My  fovereign,  eternal,  unchangeable  Love; 

"  And  when  hoary  Hairs  fhall  their  Temples  adorn, 
"  Like  lambs  they  fhall  ftill  in  my  bofom  be  borne. 

7  "  The  Soul  that  on  Jesus  hath  lean'd  for  Repofe, 
"  /  wt'U  not,  I  will  not  defert  to  his  Foes ; 

"  That  Soul,  tho'  all  Hell  fhould  endeavor  to  fhake, 
*•  /'//  never — no  fiever — no  never  forfake."  * 


1  Agreeable  to  Dr.  Doddridge's  Tranf  lation  of  Heb.  xiii.  5. 

Notice    the    '*  K "    following   the   **  Elevens," 

which    indicates    the    number   of   syllables.      That 

K is   all   that   is   positively  known   about  the 

author.     After  Dr.  Rippon's  death  some  one  changed 

the  "  K "  in  later  editions  to  "  Kirkham,"  but  it 

is  not  thought  that  Thomas  Kirkham  wrote  it. 
Daniel  Sedgwick,  an  old-time  student  of  hymns, 
heard  an  old  lady  in  an  almshouse  say  that  the 
hymn  was  written  by  George  Keith,  a  hymn-writer 


How  Firm  a  Foundation  39 

of  the  day,  and  on  that  slender  ground  most  of  our 
modern  hymnals  attribute  it  to  him.  It  is  quite  cer- 
tain, however,  that  the  author  was  Robert  Keene, 
who  was  precentor  in  Dr.  Rippon's  church,  and  who 
also  wrote  the  tune  **  Geard,"  to  which  it  was 
originally  sung. 

We  sing  the  hymn  to  the  tune  called  "  Portuguese 
Hymn,"  because  some  one  heard  it  in  the  chapel  of 
the  Portuguese  Embassy  in  London,  and  jumped  to 
the  conclusion  that  it  was  Portuguese  in  its  origin. 
It  is  not,  however,  but  is  the  music  of  a  Latin 
Christmas  hymn,  ''Adeste  Fideles" — the  hymn 
which  we  have  translated  in  the  familiar  "  O  come, 
all  ye  faithful."  "John  Reading"  is  falsely  given 
by  many  books  as  the  composer  of  this  tune. 

General  Curtis  Guild,  Jr.,  has  told  in  The  Sunday 
School  Times  how  this  hymn,  "  How  firm  a  founda- 
tion," thus  wedded  to  a  Christmas  tune,  was  sung 
on  a  famous  Christmas  morning.  The  Seventh 
Army  Corps  was  encamped  on  the  hills  above 
Havana,  Cuba,  on  Christmas  Eve  of  1898 — a  beauti- 
ful tropical  night.  Suddenly  a  sentinel  from  the 
camp  of  the  Forty-ninth  Iowa  called,  "  Number  ten  ; 
twelve  o'clock,  and  all's  well ! "  A  strong  voice 
raised  the  chorus,  and  many  manly  voices  joined  in 
until  the  whole  regiment  was  singing.  Then  the 
Sixth  Missouri  added  its  voices,  and  the  Fourth 
Virginia,  and  all  the  rest,  till  there,  as  General 
Guild  said,  "  on  the  long  ridges  above  the  great  city 
whence  Spanish  tyranny  once  went  forth  to  enslave 
the  New  World,  a  whole  American  army  corps  was 
singing : 


40  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

"  '  Fear  not,  I  am  with  thee,  O  be  not  dismayed ; 
I,  I  am  thy  God,  and  will  still  give  thee  aid ; 
I'll  strengthen  thee,  help  thee,  and  cause  thee  to  stand. 
Upheld  by  my  righteous,  omnipotent  hand.' 

**  The  Northern  soldier  knew  the  hymn  as  one  he 
had  learned  beside  his  mother's  knee.  To  the 
Southern  soldier  it  was  that  and  something  more ; 
it  was  the  favorite  hymn  of  General  Robert  E.  Lee, 
and  was  sung  at  that  great  commander's  funeral. 

'*  Protestant  and  Catholic,  South  and  North,  sing- 
ing together  on  Christmas  day  in  the  morning — 
that's  an  American  army  ! " 

Notice  the  Scripture  reference  that  follows  the 
title,  **  Exceeding  great  and  precious  Promifes." 
Look  it  up,  and  note  its  appropriateness. 

Notice  also  the  second  stanza,  omitted  from  many 
modern  hymnals.  Would  you  willingly  lose  it? 
When  it  is  omitted,  the  real  beginning  of  the  Scrip- 
ture quotation  which  answers  the  question,  **  What 
more  can  He  say  ?  "  is  left  out.  After  the  first  seven 
lines,  the  rest  of  the  hymn  is  all  Bible. 

Notice,  too,  the  last  line,  with  its  footnote  referring 
to  Doddridge's  translation  of  Heb.  13 :  5.  This 
translation  brings  out  more  clearly  than  our  Revised 
or  Authorized  versions  the  multiplied  negatives  of 
the  original  Greek  :  •*  I  will  not,  I  will  not  leave  thee, 
I  will  never,  never,  never  forsake  thee." 

The  story  is  told  of  the  venerable  Dr.  Charles 
Hodge,  so  greatly  honored  and  beloved  at  Princeton, 
that  one  evening,  when  conducting  prayers,  the  old 
man  was  reading  this  hymn,  but  was  so  overcome 


How  Firm  a  Foundation  41 

by  its  exalted  sentiments,  especially  in  view  of  his 
own  close  approach  to  the  better  land,  that  he  had 
no  voice  for  the  last  line,  but  could  only  indicate  it 
by  gestures,  beating  out  the  rhythm  of  the  words. 

Andrew  Jackson,  after  retiring  from  the  Presidency, 
became  a  devout  member  of  the  Presbyterian  church. 
One  day  in  his  old  age  a  company  of  visitors  was 
with  him,  when  General  Jackson  said,  "There  is  a 
beautiful  hymn  on  the  subject  of  the  exceeding  great 
and  precious  promises  of  God  to  His  people.  It 
was  a  favorite  hymn  with  my  dear  wife  till  the  day 
of  her  death.  It  begins  thus  :  '  How  firm  a  founda- 
tion, ye  saints  of  the  Lord.'  I  wish  you  would  sing 
it  now."  So  the  company  did  what  was  asked  by 
the  old  hero. 

Miss  Willard  wrote  once:  "Mother  says  that  at 
family  prayers  in  her  home  they  were  wont  to  sing 
together,  *  How  firm  a  foundation  '  ;  and  her  parents 
used  to  say  it  would  never  wear  out,  because  it  was 
so  full  of  Scripture.  When  mother  came  back  to  us 
after  being  confined  to  her  room  six  weeks,  we  sang 
that  hymn  for  her,  and  she  broke  in  at  the  verse 
about  *  hoary  hairs'  and  said  :  *  How  I  enjoyed  that 
for  my  old  grandmother  who  lived  to  be  ninety- 
seven,  and  I  enjoyed  it  for  my  dear  father  who  was 
eighty-six  when  he  passed  away ;  and  now  my 
daughter  enjoys  it  for  me,  who  am  eighty-four,  and 
perhaps  she  will  live  on  to  be  as  old  as  I,  when  I 
feel  sure  she  will  have  friends  who  will  enjoy  it  just 
as  tenderly  for  her.'  " 

A  beautiful  story  is  told  of  that  noble  woman, 
Fidelia  Fisk,  the  devoted  missionary  to  the  women  of 


42  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Persia.  One  time  when  she  was  worn  out  with  her 
heavy  and  difficult  labors,  she  was  attending  a  meet- 
ing. Her  weary  body  greatly  needed  rest.  Of  a 
sudden  a  native  woman  came  behind  her  as  she  sat 
on  a  mat,  and  whispered,  "  Lean  on  me."  Miss 
Fisk  heard,  but  scarcely  heeded.  Then  again  came 
the  whisper,  **  Lean  on  me."  Miss  Fisk  then  leaned 
gently  on  her  unknown  friend.  But  again  came  the 
whisper,  "If  you  love  me,  lean  hard."  The  worn- 
out  missionary  took  the  words  as  a  message  from 
her  Father  in  heaven,  urging  her,  if  she  loved  Him, 
to  lean  hard  upon  Him. 

At  one  time  a  pastor  told  this  touching  story  to 
his  people  in  a  Kansas  village.  They  were  greatly 
discouraged  because  of  the  failure  of  their  crops. 
As  soon  as  the  story  was  finished,  the  minister  sat 
down  and  let  the  people  make  their  own  application. 
At  once  a  voice  struck  up  our  hymn,  and  one  after 
another  joined  in  until  the  little  company  had  begun 
once  more  to  **  lean  for  repose  "  on  the  never-failing 
Arms  : 

**  The  soul  that  on  Jesus  hath  leaned  for  repose 
I  will  not,  I  will  not  desert  to  its  foes ; 
That  soul,  though  all  hell  should  endeavor  to  shake, 
I'll  never,  no  never,  no  never  forsake." 


"My  Country,  'Tis  of  Thee/* 

Samuel  Francis  Smith, 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES  wrote  many 
poems  for  the  reunions  of  his  class  at  Harvard, 
the  famous  class  of  1829,  and  one  of  them,  written 
when  all  the  class  were  gray-heads,  contains  these 
lines : — 

*'  And  there's  a  nice  youngster  of  excellent  pith, — 
Fate  tried  to  conceal  him  by  naming  him  Smith ; 
But  he  shouted  a  song  for  the  brave  and  the  free, — 
Just  read  on  his  medal,  *  My  country,'  <  of  thee.'  " 

This  "Smith"  was  Samuel  Francis  Smith,  who 
wrote  our  American  national  anthem.  He  was  born 
in  Boston,  October  21,  1808;  graduated  from  Har- 
vard, and  studied  for  the  ministry  at  Andover,  be- 
coming a  Baptist  clergyman. 

It  was  while  he  was  at  Andover  that  he  wrote  the 
famous  hymn.  Lowell  Mason,  the  eminent  com- 
poser, had  given  him  some  collections  of  German 
songs  for  children,  that  he  might  translate  them  into 
English.  *'One  dismal  day  in  February,  1832,"  Dr. 
Smith  wrote  long  afterward,  "about  half  an  hour  be- 
fore sunset,  I  was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  one  of 
the  music  books,  when  my  eye  rested  on  the  tune 
which  is  now  known  as  '  America.'  I  liked  the  spir- 
ited movement  of  it,  not  knowing  it  at  that  time  to 

43 


44  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

be  '  God  Save  the  King.'  I  glanced  at  the  German 
words  and  saw  that  they  were  patriotic,  and  instantly 
felt  the  impulse  to  write  a  patriotic  hymn  of  my  own, 
adapted  to  the  tune.  Picking  up  a  scrap  of  waste 
paper  which  lay  near  me,  I  wrote  at  once,  probably 
within  half  an  hour,  the  hymn  *  America,'  as  it  is  now 
known  everywhere.  The  whole  hymn  stands  to-day 
as  it  stood  on  the  bit  of  waste  paper,  five  or  six  inches 
long  and  two  and  a  half  wide." 
This  is  the  hymn  : — 


My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty. 

Of  thee  I  sing ; 
Land  where  my  fathers  died, 
Land  of  the  pilgrims'  pride, 
From  every  mountain  side 

Let  freedom  ring. 

My  native  country, — thee. 
Land  of  the  noble  free, — 

Thy  name  I  love ; 
I  love  thy  rocks  and  rills. 
Thy  woods  and  templed  hills ; 
My  heart  with  rapture  thrills 

Like  that  above. 


Let  music  swell  the  breeze. 
And  ring  from  all  the  trees 

Sweet  freedom's  song : 
Let  mortal  tongues  awake ; 
Let  all  that  breathe  partake ; 
Let  rocks  their  silence  break, 

The  sound  prolong. 


My  Country,  'Tis  of  Thee  45 

Our  fathers'  God,  to  Thee, 
Author  of  liberty, 

To  Thee  we  sing ; 
Long  may  our  land  be  bright 
With  freedom's  holy  light ; 
Protect  us  by  Thy  might. 

Great  God,  our  King. 

"  I  never  designed  it  for  a  national  hymn,"  Dr. 
Smith  said  afterward ;  **  I  never  supposed  I  was 
writing  one."  Many  of  the  best  things  come  in  just 
that  unconscious  way. 

On  the  Fourth  of  July  of  that  same  year,  1832,  the 
hymn  was  first  sung,  under  Mr.  Mason's  superin- 
tendency,  at  a  children's  celebration  in  Park  Street 
Church,  Boston,  and  soon  the  song  of  the  young 
poet  became  popular  everywhere.  It  has  never  been 
adopted  by  our  government  as  a  national  anthem, 
but  it  has  been  adopted  by  the  people  themselves, 
which  is  far  better. 

Dr.  Smith  became  an  honored  pastor,  in  several 
important  churches.  At  one  time  he  was  a  professor 
of  modern  languages,  for  he  was  familiar  with  fifteen 
languages,  and  some  one  who  visited  him  in  his 
eighty-sixth  year  found  the  vigorous  old  man  look- 
ing around  for  a  text-book  with  which  to  begin  the 
study  of  Russian ! 

At  one  time  he  was  editor  of  The  Baptist  Mission- 
ary Magazine  ;  at  another  time  of  The  Christian  Re- 
view. For  fifteen  years  he  was  secretary  of  the 
American  Baptist  Missionary  Union.  He  was  deeply 
interested  in  missions,  and  only  second  in  fame  to  his 
national  anthem  is  his  missionary  hymn,  "  The  morn- 


46  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

ing  light  is  breaking."  It  was  he  who  did  much 
toward  saving  the  "  Lone  Star  "  mission  in  India,  by 
writing  his  poem  with  that  title.  Other  well-known 
hymns  of  his  are  '* To-day  the  Saviour  calls"  and 
*'  Softly  fades  the  twilight  ray." 

The  fact  that  **  My  country,  'tis  of  thee  "  is  written 
to  the  same  tune  as  the  English  national  anthem, 
"  God  save  the  King,"  has  given  rise  to  many  stir- 
ring scenes  at  Christian  Endeavor  conventions  all 
over  the  world.  Very  often  one  stanza  of  each 
anthem  is  sung,  the  conclusion  being  one  stanza  of 
"  Blest  be  the  tie." 

This  was  done  at  the  magnificent  meeting  on  Bos- 
ton Common,  at  the  Christian  Endeavor  Convention 
of  July,  1895.  Eleven  thousand  persons  were  pres- 
ent in  the  great  tent,  and  Dr.  Smith  probably  never 
received  such  an  ovation  as  when  he  came  forward 
to  read  the  poem  which  he  wrote  for  the  occasion, 
"  Arouse  ye,  arouse  ye,  O  servants  of  God."  The 
noble  verses  were  read  with  much  fervor,  though  in 
a  voice  whose  strength  had  been  stolen  by  many 
years. 

On  November  19  of  that  same  year  the  aged  poet 
passed  away.  He  died  in  the  harness,  just  as  he  was 
taking  the  train  to  preach  in  a  neighboring  town  on 
the  following  Sunday.  And  so  passed  from  earth 
the  Christian  patriot,  whose  love  for  his  country 
widened  out  into  the  missionary  love  for  all  the 
world. 


"God  Bless  Our  Native  Land." 
Charles  T.  Brooks  and  John  S.  Dwight. 

THIS  brief  hymn  of  only  two  stanzas  is  one  of  the 
best  patriotic  hymns  ever  written.  Strangely 
enough,  it  is  uncertain  just  who  wrote  it,  and  when 
it  was  composed.  At  least  four  different  writers  have 
declared  positively  that  the  hymn  was  their  own. 

It  is  certain,  however,  that  the  poem  was  written 
jointly  by  two  Unitarian  clergymen,  life-long  friends, 
— Rev.  Charles  Timothy  Brooks  and  Dr.  John  Sul- 
livan Dwight.  These  were  both  Massachusetts  men, 
the  first  being  born  in  Salem,  and  the  second  in 
Boston.  They  were  born  the  same  year,  1813,  and 
graduated  from  Harvard  the  same  year,  1832.  Their 
deaths  occurred  in  each  case  at  an  advanced  age,  but 
there  was  here  a  separation  of  ten  years,  for  Mr. 
Brooks  passed  away  in  1883,  and  Dr.  Dwight  in  1893. 

Both  were  men  of  gentle  and  retiring  disposition. 
Mr.  Brooks  was  active  in  literary  work,  especially  as 
a  translator.  Dr.  Dwight  was  for  many  years  a 
leader  in  the  musical  interests  of  Boston,  and  founded 
in  1852  Dwight' s  Journal  of  Music ^  which  he  con- 
tinued until  188 1.  Dr.  Dwight  was  one  of  the  band 
of  enthusiasts  who  joined  in  the  famous  experiment 
of  Brook  Farm,  where  a  company  of  lofty  thinkers 
endeavored  to  put  into  practice  their  theories  of 
simple,  ideal  living. 

47 


48  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Both  Mr.  Brooks  and  Dr.  Dwight  laid  claim  at 
different  times  to  be  the  author  of  this  hymn,  but 
the  truth  seems  to  be  that  each  had  a  hand  in  the 
matter,  and  it  is  possible  that  it  was  translated  from 
the  German,  or,  at  least,  that  a  German  poem  fur- 
nished the  fundamental  idea.  At  any  rate,  the  hymn 
first  appeared  in  Lowell  Mason's  Carmina  Sacra,  in 
1841. 

The  following  is  the  form  in  which  it  was  there 
printed.  Although  there  are  several  versions,  this 
is  the  best : 

God  bless  our  native  land ; 
Firm  may  she  ever  stand 

Through  storm  and  night : 
When  the  wild  tempests  rave, 
Ruler  of  wind  and  wave, 
Do  Thou  our  country  save 

By  Thy  great  might. 

For  her  our  prayers  shall  rise 
To  God,  above  the  skies ; 

On  Him  we  wait ; 
Thou  who  art  ever  nigh, 
Guarding  with  watchful  eye, 
To  Thee  aloud  we  cry, 

God  save  the  state. 


"Jesus,  Lover  of  My  Soul." 
Charles  Wesley, 

THE  three  greatest  hymn-writers  of  our  English 
tongue  are  Isaac  Watts,  Charles  Wesley,  and 
Fanny  Crosby.  There  are  many  who  think  that 
the  hymn  we  are  to  study  is  the  greatest  hymn  ever 
written ;  all  men  agree  that  it  is  the  best  of  Wesley's 
hymns,  though  he  wrote  no  less  than  six  thousand. 
Many  of  these  six  thousand,  too,  rise  to  the  highest 
rank  of  religious  poetry,  such  as  those  beginning: 
*'  Ye  servants  of  God,  your  Master  proclaim,"  **  Come, 
Thou  long-expected  Jesus,"  "A  charge  to  keep  I 
have,"  **  Arise,  my  soul,  arise,"  "  Love  divine,  all 
love  excelling,"  *'  Depth  of  mercy !  Can  there  be," 
**  Soldiers  of  Christ,  arise,"  "  Oh,  for  a  thousand 
tongues  to  sing,"  and  the  noble  Christmas  hymn, 
'*  Hark  I  the  herald  angels  sing."  That  is  a  won- 
derful list  of  great  hymns  to  be  written  by  one  man. 
Charles  Wesley,  next  to  the  youngest  of  nineteen 
children,  was  born  at  Epworth,  England,  on  Decem- 
ber 1 8,  1708.  His  father  was  Rev.  Samuel  Wesley, 
and  his  mother,  Susannah  Wesley,  was  a  very  re- 
markable woman.  When  he  was  a  lad  of  fifteen, 
an  Irish  member  of  Parliament,  Garret  Wesley,  a 
wealthy  man,  wanted  to  adopt  him.  His  father  left 
him  to  decide  the  matter,  and  he  decided  in  the 
negative.     The   boy  that   was   finally  adopted   be- 

49 


5©  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

came  the  father  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  (Lord 
"Wellesley,"  as  he  spelled  ** Wesley"),  who  con- 
quered Napoleon  at  Waterloo.  How  history  might 
have  been  changed  if  young  Charles  Wesley  had 
not  decided  as  he  did ! 

In  1 735  Wesley  became  a  clergyman  of  the  Church 
of  England,  and  went  with  his  brother  John  on  a 
missionary  journey  to  Georgia,  becoming  secretary 
to  Governor  Oglethorpe.  Within  a  year,  broken  in 
health  and  discouraged,  he  was  compelled  to  return 
to  England. 

Years  before  this,  when  Charles  Wesley  was  at 
Oxford,  he  and  his  comrades  were  so  strict  in  their 
religious  methods  that  they  were  nicknamed  "  Meth- 
odists." But  both  Charles  and  John  had  to  learn 
more  truly  what  religion  really  is.  Charles  first 
learned  it  from  Peter  Bohler,  a  Moravian  of  devout 
spirit,  and  from  Thomas  Bray,  an  unlearned  me- 
chanic who  knew  Jesus  Christ.  John  soon  after  had 
the  same  experience,  and  from  their  vivified  preach- 
ing sprung  the  great  Methodist  churches  of  to-day. 
Under  the  preaching  of  the  Wesleys — especially  that 
of  John  Wesley,  for  Charles  soon  withdrew  from  the 
more  active  work — revivals  flamed  all  over  England. 
There  was  much  persecution.  Charles  himself  was 
driven  from  his  church.  Many  of  his  hymns  were 
written  in  time  of  trial,  and  it  is  said  that  "Jesus, 
Lover  of  my  soul,"  was  written  just  after  the  poet 
and  his  brother  had  been  driven  by  a  violent  mob 
from  the  place  where  they  had  been  preaching. 
Another  story  (and  neither  tale  can  be  verified)  says 
that  the  hymn  was  written  just  after  a  frightened 


Jesus,  Lover  of  My  Soul  51 

little  bird,  pursued  by  a  hawk,  had  flown  into  Wes- 
ley's window  and  crept  into  the  folds  of  his  coat.  The 
probable  date  of  the  hymn  is  1740.  After  a  long 
life  of  nearly  eighty  years,  Charles  Wesley  died, 
March  29,  1788. 

Here  is  his  great  hymn,  including  the  third  stanza, 
which  is  now  never  sung  : — 

Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul. 

Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  nearer  waters  roll. 

While  the  tempest  still  is  high  ! 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour,  hide, 

Till  the  storm  of  life  be  past ; 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide. 

Oh,  receive  my  soul  at  last ! 


Other  refuge  have  I  none. 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  Thee ; 
Leave,  ah  !  leave  me  not  alone. 

Still  support  and  comfort  me  ! 
All  my  trust  on  Thee  is  stayed, 

All  my  help  from  Thee  I  bring ; 
Cover  my  defenceless  head 

With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing. 

Wilt  Thou  not  regard  my  call  ? 

Wilt  Thou  not  accept  my  prayer  ? 
Lo  !  I  sink,  I  faint,  I  fall  — 

Lo  !  on  Thee  I  cast  my  care  : 
Reach  me  out  Thy  gracious  hand  ! 

While  I  of  Thy  strength  receive, 
Hoping  against  hope  I  stand, 

Dying,  and,  behold,  I  live  ! 


52  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Thou,  O  Christ,  art  all  I  want; 

More  than  all  in  Thee  I  find ; 
Raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint, 

Heal  the  sick,  and  lead  the  blind. 
Just  and  holy  is  Thy  name ; 

I  am  all  unrighteousness  : 
False  and  full  of  sin  I  am ; 

Thou  art  full  of  truth  and  grace. 

Plenteous  grace  with  Thee  is  found, 

Grace  to  cover  all  my  sin ; 
Let  the  healing  streams  abound. 

Make  and  keep  me  pure  within. 
Thou  of  life  the  fountain  art ; 

Freely  let  me  take  of  Thee  : 
Spring  Thou  up  within  my  heart, 

Rise  to  all  eternity  ! 

This  was  Finney's  last  song,  sung  by  him  the  day 
before  his  death.  The  hymn  has  brought  comfort 
to  innumerable  death-beds. 

Just  before  the  battle  of  Chickamauga  a  drummer- 
boy  dreamed  that  he  had  gone  home  and  was  greeted 
by  his  dear  mother  and  sister.  He  awoke  very  sad, 
because  both  mother  and  sister  were  dead,  and  he 
had  no  home.  He  told  the  little  story  to  the  chap- 
lain before  he  went  into  the  battle.  He  was  left  on 
the  field  with  the  dead  and  dying,  and  in  the  quiet 
of  the  night  his  voice  was  heard  singing  "Jesus, 
Lover  of  my  soul."  No  one  dared  go  to  him.  When 
he  reached  the  lines, 

''  Leave,  ah  !  leave  me  not  alone, 
Still  support  and  comfort  me," 


Jesus,  Lover  of  My  Soul  53 

his  voice  grew  silent;  and  the  next  day  his  body 
was  found  leaning  against  a  stump,  beside  his  drum. 
He  had  indeed  gone  home  to  his  mother  and  sister. 
Another  beautiful  story  is  told  of  this  hymn  in 
connection  with  the  Civil  War.  In  a  company  of 
old  soldiers,  from  the  Union  and  Confederate  armies, 
a  former  Confederate  was  telling  how  he  had  been 
detailed  one  night  to  shoot  a  certain  exposed  sentry 
of  the  opposing  army.  He  had  crept  near  and  was 
about  to  fire  with  deadly  aim  when  the  sentry  began 
to  sing,  ''Jesus,  Lover  of  my  soul."  He  came  to  the 
words, 

*'  Cover  my  defenceless  head 
With  the  shadow  of  Thy  wing." 

The  hidden  Confederate  lowered  his  gun  and  stole 
away.  **  I  can't  kill  that  man,"  said  he,  *'  though  he 
were  ten  times  my  enemy." 

In  the  company  was  an  old  Union  soldier  who 
asked  quickly, 

*'Was  that  in  the  Atlanta  campaign  of  '64?" 

"  Yes." 

"Then  I  was  the  Union  sentry  !  " 

And  he  went  on  to  tell  how,  on  that  night,  know- 
ing the  danger  of  his  post,  he  had  been  greatly 
depressed,  and,  to  keep  up  his  courage,  had  begun 
to  hum  that  hymn.  By  the  time  he  had  finished,  he 
was  entirely  calm  and  fearless.  Through  the  song 
God  had  spoken  to  tw^o  souls. 


**  Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee/' 
Sarah  Flower  Adams. 

THIS  is  the  greatest  hymn  ever  written  by  a 
woman.  Its  author  was  the  daughter  of  Benja- 
min Flower,  an  EngUshman  whose  liberal  views  on 
politics  caused  his  imprisonment  in  the  Newgate 
Prison,  London,  for  six  months.  While  there,  he 
was  visited  by  Miss  Eliza  Gould,  whose  views  were 
like  his.  After  his  release  she  married  him,  and 
they  had  two  daughters,  Eliza  and  Sarah. 

It  was  Sarah  who  wrote  the  great  hymn.  She 
was  born  at  Harlow,  February  22,  1805.  The  mother 
died  five  years  later  of  consumption,  and  both  girls 
inherited  her  delicate  constitution.  Eliza  was  mu- 
sical, and  often  wrote  music  for  her  sister's  songs. 
Sarah,  beautiful  and  vivacious,  was  fond  of  acting, 
and  had  an  idea  that  the  drama  could  be  made  to 
teach  great  truths  as  well  as  the  pulpit.  Fortunately, 
however,  her  frail  body  compelled  her  to  give  up 
the  actor's  career. 

Miss  Flower  married,  in  1834,  a  civil  engineer, 
John  Brydges  Adams,  and  they  made  their  home  in 
London.  Her  beauty,  her  gay  manners,  her  bright 
conversation,  and  her  exalted  character,  made  a  deep 
impression  upon  many. 

54 


Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee  55 

Eliza,  the  elder  sister,  became  weakened  in  caring 
for  Sarah  through  a  long  illness,  and  Sarah's  death, 
in  turn,  was  hastened,  doubtless,  by  her  care  for 
Eliza  in  her  last  sickness.  The  two  passed  away 
within  a  short  interval,  the  elder  in  December, 
1846,  and  Sarah  on  August  14,  1848.  The  hymns 
sung  at  both  funerals  were  by  Sarah,  with  music  by 
Eliza. 

The  great  hymn  was  written  in  1840,  and  was  first 
published  the  following  year  in  a  book,  '*  Hymns 
and  Anthems,"  prepared  by  Mrs.  Adams's  pastor, 
Rev.  William  Johnson  Fox,  for  the  use  of  his  con- 
gregation. In  1844  Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke 
introduced  the  hymn  in  America,  but  it  did  not  gain 
genuine  popularity  until,  in  1856,  there  was  published 
the  beautiful  tune,  **  Bethany,"  which  Lowell  Mason 
wrote  for  it.  In  the  Boston  Peace  Jubilee  of  1872 
the  hymn  was  sung  to  this  tune  by  nearly  fifty  thou- 
sand voices,  and  the  venerable  composer  himself  was 
in  the  audience. 

Many  changes  have  been  made  in  the  immortal 
hymn  by  the  editors  of  hymn-books,  but  it  is  best 
to  use  it  just  as  Mrs.  Adams  wrote  it,  which  is  as 
follows : — 


Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
Nearer  to  Thee  I 

E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 
That  raiseth  me ; 

Still  all  my  song  would  be. 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
Nearer  to  Thee  ! 


56  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Though  like  the  wanderer, 

The  sun  gone  down, 
Darkness  be  over  me. 

My  rest  a  stone ; 
Yet  in  my  dreams  I'd  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee  ! 

There  let  the  way  appear, 

Steps  unto  heaven ; 
All  that  Thou  send'st  to  me 

In  mercy  given ; 
Angels  to  beckon  me 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee  I 

Then,  with  my  waking  thoughts 

Bright  with  Thy  praise. 
Out  of  my  stony  griefs 

Bethel  I'll  raise ; 
So  by  my  woes  to  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee  I 

Or  if  on  joyful  wing 

Cleaving  the  sky, 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars  forgot. 

Upwards  I  fly, 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee ! 

Some  interesting  incidents  are  connected  with  this 
hymn.  In  187 1,  three  eminent  theologians,  Pro- 
fessors Hitchcock,  Smith,  and  Park,  were  traveling 
in  Palestine,  when  they  heard  the  strains  of  *'  Bethany." 


Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee  57 

Drawing  near,  to  their  amazement  they  saw  fifty 
Syrian  students  standing  under  some  trees  in  a  circle, 
and  singing  in  Arabic  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee." 
Professor  Hitchcock,  speaking  afterward  of  the  event, 
said  that  the  singing  of  that  Christian  hymn  by  those 
Syrian  youths  moved  him  to  tears,  and  affected  him 
more  than  any  singing  he  had  ever  heard  before. 

During  the  Johnstown  flood.  May  31,  1889,  a  rail- 
road train  rushed  into  the  swirling  waters.  One  car 
was  turned  on  end,  and  in  it  was  imprisoned,  beyond 
the  hope  of  rescue,  a  woman  on  her  way  to  be  a 
missionary  in  the  far  East. 

She  spoke  to  the  awe-struck  multitude,  gazing 
helpless  at  the  tragedy.  Then  she  prayed,  and 
finally  she  sung  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,"  in 
which  she  was  joined  by  the  sorrowing,  sympathiz- 
ing throng.  As  she  sung,  she  passed  away,  coming 
nearer  indeed  to  the  God  of  her  worship. 

But  the  most  inspiring  of  all  the  associations  of 
this  hymn  is  that  connected  with  the  death  of  the 
martyred  McKinley.  Dr.  M.  D.  Mann,  the  physi- 
cian, heard  him  murmur  among  his  last  words, 
**  *  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,  E'en  though  it  be  a 
cross,'  has  been  my  constant  prayer."  On  the  day 
of  his  burial,  Thursday,  September  19,  1901,  at  half- 
past  three,  in  all  our  cities  and  villages  and  wherever 
the  daily  press  made  way,  by  previous  arrangement 
the  people  paused  in  their  occupations.  Trolley 
cars  stopped.  The  streets  were  hushed.  Men  stood 
with  bared  heads.  There  were  five  minutes  of  silence 
over  the  land.  In  Union  and  Madison  Squares, 
New  York  City,  following  this  impressive  silence. 


58  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

bands  played  **  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,"  and  the 
same  hymn  was  used  in  countless  churches  at 
memorial  services.  Among  others,  it  was  used  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  at  the  memorial  service  cele- 
brated by  command  of  King  Edward. 


"  Just  as  I  Am." 

Charlotte  Elliott. 

PROBABLY  no  other  hymn  ever  written  has 
brought  so  many  souls  to  Christ. 

It  was  written  by  Charlotte  Elliott,  who  was  born 
in  London,  England,  in  1789.  She  lived  to  be  an 
old  lady  of  eighty-two,  but  all  her  life  she  was  an 
invalid.  Her  suffering  made  Miss  Elliott  most 
thoughtful  for  others  in  distress,  and  most  of  her 
hymns  were  written  with  such  persons  in  mind.  Did 
not  God  have  that  purpose  in  permitting  her  to  be- 
come sick  ? 

This  very  hymn  was  written  when  she  was  in 
great  pain  and  trouble,  and  it  must  have  helped  her 
to  take  to  Christ  her  poor,  worn-out  body  and  find 
the  help  she  so  much  needed. 

The  hymn  first  appeared  in  The  Christian  Re- 
membrancery  of  which  Miss  Elliott  became  editor  in 
1836.  Soon  after  it  was  published  a  lady,  who  ad- 
mired it  greatly,  had  it  printed  in  leaflet  form,  and 
widely  distributed.  Miss  Elliott  was  very  sick,  and 
one  day  her  physician  gave  her  one  of  these  leaflets 
to  comfort  her,  not  knowing  that  she  was  the  author. 
It  is  said  that  the  sufferer  wept  tears  of  grateful  joy 
when  she  saw  this  evidence  that  God  had  so  used 
her  efforts,  though  put  forth  from  a  feeble  body. 

The  hymn,  as  first  printed,  had  six  verses.     The 

59 


6o  A  Treasure  of  H5mins 

seventh  stanza  was  added  later,  but  certainly  no  one 
would  be  willing  to  lose  it.  Here  is  the  hymn  en- 
tire : — 

Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea, 
But  that  Thy  blood  was  shed  for  nie. 
And  that  Thou  bidst  me  come  to  Thee, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 

Just  as  I  am,  and  waiting  not 
To  rid  my  soul  of  one  dark  blot. 
To  Thee,  whose  blood  can  cleanse  each  spot, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 

Just  as  I  am,  though  tossed  about 
With  many  a  conflict,  many  a  doubt, 
Fightings  and  fears  within,  without, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 

Just  as  I  am,  poor,  wretched,  blind  ; 
Sight,  riches,  healing  of  the  mind. 
Yea,  all  I  need  in  Thee  to  find, 

O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 

Just  as  I  am.  Thou  wilt  receive. 

Wilt  welcome,  pardon,  cleanse,  relieve, 

Because  Thy  promise  I  believe, 

O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 

Just  as  I  am,  (Thy  love  unknown 
Has  broken  every  barrier  down), 
Now  to  be  Thine,  yea.  Thine  alone, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 


Just  as  I  am,  of  that  free  love 

The  breadth,  length,  depth,  and  height  to  prove, 

Here  for  a  season,  then  above, 

O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come  ! 


Just  as  I  Am  6i 


Miss  Elliott's  brother,  a  clergyman,  Rev.  H.  V. 
Elliott,  once  said,  "  In  the  course  of  a  long  ministry, 
I  hope  I  have  been  permitted  to  see  some  fruit  of 
my  labors,  but  I  feel  far  more  has  been  done  by  a 
single  hymn  of  my  sister's."  After  the  author's 
death  more  than  a  thousand  letters  were  found 
among  her  papers,  giving  thanks  for  blessings  re- 
ceived from  "Just  as  I  am."  Moody  once  declared 
that  no  hymn  has  done  so  much  good,  or  touched 
so  many  hearts. 

For  example,  in  the  summer  of  1895,  the  young 
people  of  the  Lenox  Road  Methodist  Church  of 
Brooklyn  sung  this  hymn  in  their  service,  and,  as  it 
happened,  the  hymn  was  sung  also  in  the  church 
service  following.  A  few  doors  away  lay  a  young 
lawyer  in  his  room.  All  windows  were  open,  and 
he  heard  the  hymn  twice  repeated.  At  the  time  he 
was  in  the  midst  of  a  fierce  struggle  with  conscience, 
and  the  hymn  determined  him  to  be  a  Christian. 

One  day  Mr.  Wanamaker  told  his  great  Sunday 
school  in  Philadelphia  that  one  of  their  number,  a 
young  man  who  had  been  present  only  a  week  be- 
fore, lay  dying,  and  had  asked  the  school  to  sing  in 
his  behalf,  ''Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea."  The 
hymn  was  sung  with  so  much  feeling,  and  especially 
the  third  stanza,  that  a  visitor  who  was  present  was 
led  to  Christ,  being  freed  on  the  spot  from  "  many  a 
conflict,  many  a  doubt." 

Once  John  B.  Gough  was  placed  in  a  pew  with  a 
man  so  repulsive  that  he  moved  to  the  farther  end 
of  the  seat.  The  congregation  began  to  sing  **  Just 
as  I  am,"  and  the  man  joined  in  so  heartily  that 


62  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Mr.  Gough  decided  that  he  could  not  be  so  disagree- 
able after  all,  and  moved  up  nearer,  though  the 
man's  singing  '*  was  positively  awful."  At  the  end 
of  the  third  stanza,  while  the  organ  was  playing  the 
interlude,  the  man  leaned  toward  Mr.  Gough  and 
whispered,  "  Won't  you  please  give  me  the  first  line 
of  the  next  verse?  "     Mr.  Gough  repeated, 

"  Just  as  I  am,  poor,  wretched,  blind," 

and  the  man  replied,  ** That's  it;  and  I  am  blind — 
God  help  me  ;  and  I  am  a  paralytic."  Then  as  he 
tried  with  his  poor,  twitching  lips  to  make  music  of 
the  glorious  words,  Mr.  Gough  thought  that  never 
in  his  life  had  he  heard  music  so  beautiful  as  the 
blundering  singing  of  that  hymn  by  the  paralytic. 


"Rock  of  Ages/' 
Augustus  M.  Toplady. 

"  "D  OC^  OF  AGES"  and  ''Jesus,  Lover  of  my 
XX.  soul,"  are  the  two  favorite  hymns  of  most 
Christians. 

The  author  of  "  Rock  of  Ages,"  Augustus  Mon- 
tague Toplady,  was  an  Englishman,  and  was  born 
November  4,  1740.  His  father,  Major  Toplady,  died 
in  the  siege  of  Cartagena  in  Colombia,  South  Amer- 
ica, while  his  boy  was  only  a  few  months  old.  Young 
Toplady  was  converted  when  on  a  visit  to  Ireland  by 
an  ignorant  Methodist  preacher,  a  layman,  who  was 
preaching  in  a  barn. 

His  mind  was  vigorous,  but  his  body  was  weak, 
and  soon  consumption  seized  upon  him.  He  fought 
it  for  two  years  before  it  conquered,  and  it  was  dur- 
ing this  period  that  he  wrote  his  immortal  hymn.  It 
appeared  first  in  the  Gospel  Magazine  for  March, 
1776 — a  magazine  of  which  he  was  the  editor.  It 
was  in  the  midst  of  an  article  in  which  he  tried  to 
figure  out  the  number  of  a  man's  sins,  and  then  broke 
into  this  hymn,  which  sets  forth  our  only  remedy  for 
sin :  — 

Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me. 

Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  ! 

Let  the  water  and  the  blood 

From  Thy  riven  side  which  flowed, 

Be  of  sin  the  double  cure, 

Cleanse  me  from  its  guilt  and  power. 

63 


64  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Not  the  labor  of  my  hands 
Can  fulfil  Thy  law's  demands ; 
Could  my  zeal  no  respite  know, 
Could  my  tears  forever  flow, 
All  for  sin  could  not  atone ; 
Thou  must  save,  and  Thou  alone. 


Nothing  in  my  hand  I  bring ; 
Simply  to  Thy  cross  I  cling ; 
Naked,  come  to  Thee  for  dress ; 
Helpless,  look  to  Thee  for  grace ; 
Foul,  I  to  the  Fountain  fly ; 
Wash  me,  Saviour,  or  I  die. 


While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
When  my  eyestrings  break  in  death, 
When  I  soar  through  tracts  unknown, 
See  Thee  on  Thy  judgment  throne, — 
Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me. 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  ! 


Toplady's  title  for  the  hymn  was  "  A  living  and 
dying  prayer  for  the  holiest  believer  in  the  world." 
The  title  fitly  expressed  the  triumphant  faith  in  which 
he  himself  passed  away  on  August  ii,  1778,  saying, 
"  My  prayers  are  all  converted  into  praise."  He  was 
only  thirty-eight  years  old.  The  hymn  was  actually 
used  as  a  dying  prayer  by  Prince  Albert,  the  beloved 
husband  of  Queen  Victoria.  It  was  sung  in  Con- 
stantinople by  the  Armenians  during  the  fearful  mas- 
sacre. When  the  steamship  London  went  down  in 
the  Bay  of  Biscay  in   1866,  the  last  man  to  escape 


Rock  of  Ages  65 


from  the  ill-fated  vessel  heard  the  remaining  passen- 
gers singing  this  hymn  : — 

Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee. 

The  hymn  was  an  especial  favorite  with  Gladstone, 
who  was  often  heard  humming  it  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  who  translated  it  into  Latin,  Greek, 
and  Italian.  His  Latin  translation  is  one  of  great 
beauty.  Major-General  Stuart,  the  famous  Confed- 
erate cavalry  officer,  sung  this  hymn  as  he  lay  dying 
after  the  Battle  of  the  Wilderness.  Of  many  other 
death-beds  this  hymn  has  been  the  solace  and  the 
crown. 

The  story  is  told  of  a  Chinese  woman  who,  for  the 
purpose  of  "making  merit"  for  herself  with  her 
heathen  gods,  had  dug  a  well  twenty-five  feet  deep 
and  fifteen  in  diameter.  She  was  converted,  and  a 
traveler  speaks  of  meeting  her  when  she  had  reached 
the  age  of  eighty.  She  was  bent  with  age,  but  she 
stretched  out  her  crippled  hands  toward  her  visitor, 
and  began  to  sing  : — 

Nothing  in  my  hand  I  bring. 
Simply  to  Thy  cross  I  cling. 

The  noblest  incident  connected  with  this  hymn  is 
related  of  the  celebration  of  the  fiftieth  year  of  the 
reign  of  Queen  Victoria.  On  this  occasion  there 
came  an  embassy  from  Queen  Ranavalona  IIL,  of 
Madagascar,  and  in  the  company  was  a  venerable 


66  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Hova,  who  expressed  the  desires  of  his  people  for  the 
prosperity  of  the  Queen,  and  then  asked  permission 
to  sing.  It  was  expected  that  he  would  render  some 
heathen  song,  but  to  every  one's  amazement  he  burst 
forth  with 

Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee. 

It  was  a  striking  proof  of  the  power  of  Christian 
missions. 

'*  Rock  of  Ages  "  was  often  sung  by  the  Armenians 
at  Constantinople  during  the  terrible  massacres. 

The  hymn  is  given  as  Toplady  wrote  it,  and  it 
will  be  seen  that  it  is  often  mutilated  in  our  hymn- 
books.  The  second  line  of  the  last  stanza  is  generally 
written : — 

When  my  eyelids  close  in  death. 

Toplady's  line  refers  to  an  old  belief  that,  when  a 
person  dies,  the  **  eyestrings  "  snap. 

As  to  the  thought  of  "  Rock  of  Ages,"  it  probably 
sprung  from  the  marginal  translation  of  Isa.  26  : 4 : 
**  In  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  the  rock  of  ages,"  but  Top- 
lady  doubtless  combined  that  with  such  passages  as 
**  I  will  put  thee  in  a  cleft  of  the  rock  "  (Exod.  33  :  22), 
"  Enter  into  the  rock  "  (Isa.  2  :  10),  and  **  They  drank 
of  that  spiritual  Rock  that  followed  them :  and  that 
Rock  was  Christ "  (i  Cor.  10 :  4). 

Toplady  wrote  133  poems  and  hymns,  but  nearly 
all  are  forgotten  except  this.     One  other,  however,  is 


Rock  of  Ages  67 


a  hymn  of  great  beauty,  and  is  cherished  by  many 
Christians :  — 

Inspirer  and  Hearer  of  prayer, 

Thou  Shepherd  and  Guardian  of  Thine, 
My  all  to  Thy  covenant  care 

I  sleeping  and  waking  resign ; 
If  Thou  art  my  shield  and  my  sun. 

The  night  is  no  darkness  to  me ; 
And  fast  as  my  moments  roll  on 

They  bring  me  but  nearer  to  Thee. 


"Take  My  Life." 
Frances  Ridley  HavergaL 

FRANCES  RIDLEY  HAVERGAL  wrote  so 
many  helpful  books,  and  lived  a  life  so  earnest 
and  devoted,  that  she  has  had  a  very  deep  influence 
over  the  hearts  of  Christians.  Of  all  her  poems,  the 
one  before  us  meant  the  most  to  her,  and  has  meant 
the  most  to  the  world. 

Miss  Havergal  was  born  in  Astley,  England, 
December  14,  1836.  Her  father  was  an  Episcopal 
clergyman,  a  skilful  composer  of  music,  and  himself 
a  hymn- writer.  She  was  baptized  by  another  hymn- 
writer,  Rev,  John  Cawood,  who  wrote  "  Hark !  what 
mean  those  holy  voices  ?  " 

Studying  in  England  and  Germany,  Miss  Haver- 
gal became  a  good  Hebrew  and  Greek  scholar,  and 
knew  several  modern  languages.  She  became  also 
a  brilliant  singer  and  piano-player,  and  a  glittering 
career  in  society  was  open  before  her.  But  she  con- 
sidered all  her  talents  to  be  only  loans  from  the 
Lord,  to  be  used  in  His  service.  She  would  not 
even  sing,  except  sacred  music,  and  for  the  purpose 
of  winning  souls.  She  lavished  her  strength  upon 
work  for  the  Master,  teaching  in  Sunday  schools, 
writing  letters,  writing  many  leaflets  and  books,  con- 
ducting religious  meetings,  and  making  public  ad- 
dresses.    She  was  often  sick,  and  her  life  was  short, 

68 


Take  My  Life  69 


but  she  accomplished  a  wonderful  amount  of  noble 
work. 

Miss  Havergal's  beautiful  consecration  hymn  was 
written  on  February  4,  1874.     Here  it  is. 

Take  my  life,  and  let  it  be 
Consecrated,  Lord,  to  Thee. 
Take  my  moments  and  my  days ; 
Let  them  flow  in  ceaseless  praise. 

Take  my  hands,  and  let  them  move 
At  the  impulse  of  Thy  love. 
Take  my  feet,  and  let  them  be 
Swift  and  beautiful  for  Thee. 

Take  ray  voice,  and  let  me  sing, 
Always,  only,  for  my  King. 
Take  my  lips,  and  let  them  be 
Filled  with  messages  from  Thee. 

Take  my  silver  and  my  gold ; 
Not  a  mite  would  I  withhold. 
Take  my  intellect,  and  use 
Every  power  as  Thou  shalt  choose. 

Take  my  will,  and  make  it  Thine ; 
It  shall  be  no  longer  mine. 
Take  my  heart,  it  is  Thine  own ; 
It  shall  be  Thy  royal  throne. 

Take  my  love ;  my  Lord,  I  pour 
At  Thy  feet  its  treasure-store. 
Take  myself,  and  I  will  be 
Ever,  only,  all  for  Thee. 

At  the  close  of  1873  Miss  Havergal  came  to  long 
for  a  deeper  knowledge  of  God.     On  Sunday,  De- 


70  A  Treasure  of  H)nTins 

cember  2,  of  that  year  she  was  brought  to  see,  as  by 
a  flash  of  light,  that  she  could  not  have  the  full 
blessedness  of  a  Christian  without  a  full  surrender  to 
Christ. 

On  the  first  of  February,  1874,  Miss  Havergal  was 
visiting  in  a  home  where  there  were  ten  persons, 
some  of  them  not  converted,  some  of  them  Christians 
but  not  very  happy  ones.  A  great  longing  seized 
upon  Miss  Havergal  that  all  of  these  might,  before 
she  left,  come  to  know  her  Saviour  as  joyfully  as  she 
had  just  come  to  know  Him.  That  prayer  was 
granted,  and  before  she  left  the  house.  On  the  last 
night  of  her  stay,  February  4,  she  was  too  happy  to 
sleep,  and  spent  the  night  writing  this  hymn,  closing 
with  the  triumphant  line,  '*  Ever,  ONLY,  ALL  for 
TheeT* 

Miss  Havergal  made  the  hymn  a  standard  for  her 
own  living.  Years  afterward  she  wrote  in  a  letter, 
**  I  had  a  great  time  early  this  morning  renewing  the 
never-regretted  consecration."  Then  she  went  on 
to  tell  how  she  found  she  had  really  made  her  own 
all  but  the  eleventh  couplet,  about  love ;  she  felt 
that  she  had  not  given  Christ  her  love  as  she  wanted 
to,  and  she  made  that  the  object  of  her  morning  con- 
secration. 

Sometimes  the  earnest  worker  would  conduct 
consecration  meetings,  and  there  is  an  account  of 
one  such  meeting  in  particular,  at  the  close  of  which 
she  gave  each  person  present  a  card  bearing  the 
words  of  the  hymn,  and  asked  them  to  take  the 
cards  home,  pray  over  them,  and  then,  if  they  could 
make  them  their  own,  sign  them  on  their  knees. 


Take  My  Life  71 


This  gifted  and  truly  consecrated  woman  died  in 
Wales  on  June  3,  1879,  at  the  age  of  forty-three. 
She  was  buried  at  Astley,  and  on  her  tombstone  is 
engraved,  as  she  herself  wished,  her  favorite  text : 
"The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  His  Son  cleanseth  us 
from  all  sin." 


"  My  Faith  Looks  Up  to  Thee/' 
Ray  Palmer, 

THIS  is  probably  the  greatest  hymn  written  by 
an  American.  Its  author,  Ray  Palmer,  was 
the  son  of  a  judge,  Hon.  Thomas  Palmer,  and  was 
born  at  Little  Compton,  R.  I.,  on  November  12,  1808. 
He  became  a  clerk  in  a  Boston  dry-goods  store,  a 
student  at  Phillips  Academy  and  at  Yale,  a  teacher 
in  New  York  and  New  Haven,  pastor  of  several 
churches,  and  corresponding  secretary  of  the  Ameri- 
can Congregational  Union. 

In  1830,  immediately  after  his  graduation  from 
Yale,  when  Mr.  Palmer  was  teaching  in  New  York, 
he  wrote  his  great  hymn.  He  was  then  a  young  man 
of  twenty-two. 

''The  words  of  the  hymn,"  he  afterward  said, 
"  were  born  of  my  own  soul."  He  was  reading,  in 
the  quiet  of  his  own  room,  a  brief  German  poem  of 
only  two  stanzas,  picturing  a  suppliant  before  the 
cross.  Touched  by  the  lines,  he  translated  them 
and  added  four  stanzas  of  his  own — the  immortal 
hymn : — 

My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee, 
Thou  Lamb  of  Calvary, 

Saviour  divine ; 
Now  hear  me  while  I  pray, 
Take  all  my  guilt  away, 
O  let  me  from  this  day 

Be  wholly  Thine. 
72 


My  Faith  Looks  Up  to  Thee  73 

May  Thy  rich  grace  impart 
Strength  to  my  fainting  heart, 

My  zeal  inspire ; 
As  Thou  hast  died  for  me, 
O  may  my  love  to  Thee 
Pure,  warm,  and  changeless  be, 

A  living  fire. 

While  life's  dark  maze  I  tread, 
And  griefs  around  me  spread. 

Be  Thou  my  Guide  ; 
Bid  darkness  turn  to  day, 
Wipe  sorrow's  tears  away, 
Nor  let  me  ever  stray 

From  Thee  aside. 

When  ends  life's  transient  dream, 
When  death's  cold,  sullen  stream 

Shall  o'er  me  roll, 
Blest  Saviour,  then,  in  love, 
Fear  and  distrust  remove;  . 

O  bear  me  safe  above, 

A  ransomed  soul. 

Dr.  Palmer  afterward  said  that  when  he  was  writ- 
ing the  last  line,  "  A  ransomed  soul,"  "  the  thought 
that  the  whole  work  of  redemption  and  salvation 
was  involved  in  those  words,  and  suggested  the 
theme  of  eternal  praises,  moved  the  writer  to  a  de- 
gree of  emotion  that  brought  abundant  tears." 

The  hymn  was  copied  into  a  little  morocco-cov- 
ered book,  which  Mr.  Palmer  carried  in  his  pocket, 
reading  the  verses  in  his  hours  of  communion  with 
the  Father.  Its  use  as  a  hymn  is  due  to  a  chance 
meeting  of  Mr.  Palmer  on  a  Boston  street  with 
Lowell  Mason,  the  famous  musician.     He  asked  Mr. 


74  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Palmer  for  a  hymn  which  he  might  use  in  "  Spiritual 
Songs  for  Social  Worship,"  which  he  was  then  pre- 
paring, and  a  copy  of  **  My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee  " 
was  at  once  made  out  in  a  near-by  store.  Meeting 
the  author  on  the  street  a  few  days  later,  Mr.  Mason 
exclaimed,  "  You  may  live  many  years  and  do  many 
good  things,  but  I  think  you  will  be  best  known  to  pos- 
terity as  the  author  of  '  My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee.'  " 

Of  this  incident  Prof.  Austin  Phelps  once  wrote : 
"  One  of  those  fleeting  conjunctions  of  circumstances 
and  men  1  The  doctor  of  music  and  future  doctor 
of  theology  are  thrown  together  in  the  roaring  thor- 
oughfare of  commerce  for  a  brief  interview,  scarcely 
more  than  enough  for  a  morning  salutation  ;  and  the 
sequence  is  the  publication  of  a  Christian  lyric  which 
is  to  be  sung  around  the  world."  The  tune  which 
Mason  composed  is  the  well-known  and  beautiful 
"Olivet,"  to  which  "My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee" 
has  always  been  sung. 

The  American  publication  was  in  1832.  In  1842 
the  hymn  was  introduced  into  Great  Britain,  and  be- 
came very  popular  there.  Indeed,  it  was  not  till  it 
had  received  this  approval  over  the  sea  that  it  be- 
came widely  known  in  America. 

This  was  Mr.  Palmer's  first  hymn,  and  he  after- 
ward wrote  many  others,  among  them  "  Come  Jesus, 
Redeemer,  abide  Thou  with  me  "  and  **  Take  me,  O 
my  Father,  take  me." 

His  translations  of  Latin  hymns  are  especially 
fine,  the  best  known  being  "  Jesus,  Thou  joy  of  lov- 
ing hearts,"  and  "  Come,  Holy  Ghost,  in  love."  Mr. 
Palmer's  own  favorite  among  his  hymns  was  "Jesus, 


My  Faith  Looks  Up  to  Thee  75 

these  eyes  have  never  seen."  From  this  hymn  were 
taken  the  last  words  the  poet  uttered,  as,  the  day 
before  he  passed  away,  he  was  heard  faintly  mur- 
muring the  stanza : — 

*'  When  death  these  mortal  eyes  shall  seal 
And  still  this  throbbing  heart, 
The  rending  veil  shall  Thee  reveal 
All  glorious  as  Thou  art." 

Mr.  Palmer  was  a  man  of  gentle,  lovable  charac- 
ter, a  saintly  man,  but  a  man  of  strong  feeling  and 
powerful  enthusiasms. 

The  most  touching  incident  connected  with  this 
great  hymn  is  perhaps  the  story  of  eight  young 
Christian  soldiers  that  met  for  prayer  in  a  tent  just 
before  one  of  the  terrible  batdes  of  the  Wilderness 
in  the  Civil  War.  They  desired  to  write  a  statement 
which  should  show  how  they  faced  death  and  go  as 
a  comforting  message  to  the  relatives  of  those  whom 
the  coming  battle  might  remove  from  earth.  They 
decided  to  copy  this  hymn  and  sign  it  as  their  suffi- 
cient declaration  of  Christian  faith,  and  they  did  so. 
On  the  morrow  seven  of  those  brave  Union  soldiers 
died  for  their  country,  and  received  in  their  own  ex- 
perience the  blessed  realization  of  the  hymn's  clos- 
ing stanza : — 

When  ends  life's  transient  dream, 
When  death's  cold,  sullen  stream 

Shall  o'er  me  roll. 
Blest  Saviour,  then,  in  love, 
Fear  and  distrust  remove  ; 
O  bear  me  safe  above, 

A  ransomed  soul. 


"In  the  Cross  of  Christ  I  Glory/' 

Sir  John  Bowring, 

THE  author  of  this  hymn  was  a  remarkable  man, 
Sir  John  Bowring,  who  was  born  at  Exeter, 
England,  in  1792,  and  died  in  1872.  He  was  a  very 
learned  man.  He  could  speak  fluently  twenty-two 
languages,  and  converse  in  one  hundred.  He  was 
consul  at  Hong  Kong,  China,  when  the  terrible 
Opium  War  broke  out,  and  was  afterward  governor 
of  that  British  colony.  He  was  twice  a  member  of 
the  British  Parliament,  and  he  made  treaties  for 
Siam  and  Hawaii  with  six  European  countries.  He 
was  an  ardent  student  of  the  songs  of  Europe,  and 
published  several  volumes  of  translations  from  more 
than  twenty  languages.  His  little  book,  **  Matins 
and  Vespers,"  is  full  of  beautiful  religious  poems. 
He  was  a  sincere  Christian,  and  lived  a  Christlike 
life.  The  words  he  wrote,  *'  In  the  Cross  of  Christ  I 
glory,"  were  no  unmeaning  words  to  him,  and  they 
are  fittingly  cut  in  bold  letters  upon  his  tombstone. 
Sir  John  Bowring  wrote  other  hymns  that  are  often 
sung  by  all  Christians.  Some  of  these  are :  "  God  is 
love.  His  mercy  brightens,"  **  From  the  recesses  of  a 
lowly  spirit,"  and  **  Watchman,  tell  us  of  the  night." 
The  last  was  written  in  1825,  and  Bowring  did  not 
know  that  it  was  used  as  a  hymn  till  ten  years  later, 
when  he  heard  it  sung  in  a  prayer  meeting  of  Ameri- 
can missionaries  in  Asiatic  Turkey. 

76 


In  the  Cross  of  Christ  I  Glory  77 

But  of  course  Bowring's  most  famous  hymn  is  the 
following  : — 

In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory, 

Towering  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time  ; 

All  the  light  of  sacred  story 

Gathers  round  its  head  sublime. 

When  the  woes  of  life  o'ertake  me, 
Hopes  deceive  and  fears  annoy, 

Never  shall  the  cross  forsake  me  ; 
Lo,  it  glows  with  peace  and  joy. 

When  the  sun  of  bliss  is  beaming 

Light  and  love  upon  my  w^ay, 
From  the  cross  the  radiance  streaming 

Adds  new  lustre  to  the  day. 

Bane  and  blessing,  pain  and  pleasure. 

By  the  cross  are  sanctified  : 
Peace  is  there  that  knows  no  measure, 

Joys  that  through  all  time  abide. 

In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory  : 
Towering  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time, 

All  the  light  of  sacred  story 
Gathers  round  its  head  sublime. 

One  incident  of  the  siege  of  Peking  during  the 
Boxer  massacres  shows  the  hold  this  hymn  has  upon 
the  Christian  church.  After  the  raising  of  the  siege, 
and  the  terrible  strain  was  over,  the  missionaries 
gathered  in  the  Temple  of  Heaven, — that  mysterious 
shrine  which  no  one  but  the  Emperor  of  China  had 
been   allowed   to  visit,   and   he  only  once  a   year. 


78  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Around  the  royal  marble  altar  in  that  heathen 
temple  gathered  the  missionaries  of  the  Cross,  and 
sang  the  hymn  which  expressed  the  spirit  that  had 
sustained  them  during  those  dreadful  weeks  of  suf- 
fering and  danger — *'In  the  Cross  of  Christ  I  glory." 
Let  us  never  again  sing  the  second  stanza  without 
thinking  of  that  inspiring  scene  : — 

"  When  the  woes  of  life  o'ertake  me, 
Hopes  deceive  and  fears  annoy, 
Never  shall  the  cross  forsake  me  ; 
Lo,  it  glows  with  peace  and  joy." 


"Sun  of  My  Soul." 
John  Keble, 

^HE  CHRISTIAN  YEAR"  is  one  of  the 
world's  greatest  books  of  poems.  Every 
Christian  should  own  it  and  read  it.  It  was  written 
by  John  Keble,  and  it  is  a  series  of  poems  on  the 
different  special  services  and  saints'  days  of  the 
Episcopal  Church. 

The  book  was  published  in  1827,  and  within 
twenty-six  years  forty-three  editions  were  sold. 
Before  the  writer  died,  he  had  seen  ninety-six  edi- 
tions, and  more  than  half  a  million  copies  had  been 
sold.     It  is  still  sold  in  large  numbers. 

One  Sunday  four  travelers  chanced  to  meet  in  the 
desert  of  Mount  Sinai,  and  three  of  them  had  copies 
of  **  The  Christian  Year."  During  the  Crimean  War 
a  daughter  of  Dr.  Chalmers  sent  the  English  hos- 
pitals a  whole  cargo  of  the  book. 

But  John  Keble  himself  almost  never  read  the 
book,  and  never  liked  to  talk  about  it  or  hear  it 
praised.  He  did  not  want  to  publish  it,  in  the  first 
place,  and  at  last  consented  only  on  condition  that 
his  name  should  not  appear  in  it.  All  through  his 
life  he  was  modest  and  retiring. 

His  life  was  very  quiet.  He  was  born  on  April  25, 
1792,  and  died  March  29,  1866.  He  was  a  remark- 
able scholar  at  Oxford,  but  became  a  country  min- 

79 


8o  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

ister,  and  lived  most  of  his  life  in  charge  of  a  village 
church  at  Hursley, — a  church  which  he  rebuilt  largely 
out  of  the  profits  of  "  The  Christian  Year." 

He  was  a  most  dutiful  son  and  brother,  a  tender, 
loving,  pure  soul.  The  last  book  in  his  hands,  be- 
fore he  died,  was  a  hymn-book. 

The  two  poems  that  begin  **  The  Christian  Year  " 
have  each  given  us  a  famous  hymn.  One  is  a 
morning  hymn,  beginning  "  New  every  morning  is 
the  love,"  and  containing  the  famous  stanza  : — 

"  The  trivial  round,  the  common  task, 
Will  furnish  all  we  need  to  ask. 
Room  to  deny  ourselves,  a  road 
To  bring  us  daily  nearer  God." 

The  other  is  the  still  more  famous  evening  hymn. 
The  poem  from  which  it  is  taken  contains  fourteen 
stanzas.  The  first  stanza  is  a  description  of  the 
sunset : — 

"  'Tis  gone,  that  bright  and  orbed  blaze, 
Fast  fading  from  our  wistful  gaze ; 
Yon  mantling  cloud  has  hid  from  sight 
The  last  faint  pulse  of  quivering  light." 

But  not  so  does  the  "  Sun  of  the  soul "  set  upon 
our  vision.  The  poet  goes  on  with  the  stanzas 
which,  taken  here  and  there  from  among  the  others, 
make  up  our  hymn  : — 

Sun  of  my  soul.  Thou  Saviour  dear. 
It  is  not  night  if  Thou  be  near  ; 
O  may  no  earth-born  cloud  arise 
To  hide  Thee  from  Thy  servant's  eyes. 


Sun  of  My  Soul  8i 


When  the  soft  dews  of  kindly  sleep 
My  wearied  eyelids  gently  steep, 
Be  my  last  thought,  how  sweet  to  rest 
For  ever  on  my  Saviour's  breast. 

Abide  with  me  from  morn  till  eve, 
For  without  Thee  I  cannot  live ; 
Abide  with  me  when  night  is  nigh, 
For  without  Thee  I  dare  not  die. 

If  some  poor  wandering  child  of  Thine 
Have  spurned  to-day  the  voice  divine, 
Now,  Lord,  the  gracious  work  begin 
Let  him  no  more  lie  down  in  sin. 

Watch  by  the  sick ;  enrich  the  poor 
With  blessings  from  Thy  boundless  store ; 
Be  every  mourner's  sleep  to-night 
Like  infants'  slumbers,  pure  and  light. 

Come  near  and  bless  us  when  we  wake, 
Ere  through  the  world  our  way  we  take, 
Till  in  the  ocean  of  Thy  love 
We  lose  ourselves  in  heaven  above. 


«  Am  I  a  Soldier  of  the  Cross  ? '' 
Isaac  Watts. 

ISAAC  WATTS,  who  wrote  this  hymn,  was  the 
father  of  hymn-writing  in  the  English  language, 
and  the  author  of  many  of  our  greatest  hymns. 

He  was  born  in  Southampton,  England,  July  17, 
1674.  His  father  was  not  a  member  of  the  state 
church,  and  was  twice  thrown  into  jail  for  opposing 
it,  so  that  when  he  was  a  baby  his  mother  often 
carried  him  in  her  arms  to  visit  his  father  in  prison. 

There  are  remarkable  stories  of  young  Isaac's  boy- 
hood, one  of  them  declaring  that  he  begged  for 
books  before  he  could  talk  plainly,  and  others  as- 
serting that  he  began  Latin  at  the  age  of  four  and, 
wrote  poetry  at  the  age  of  seven ! 

He  became  a  minister  in  London.  He  was  a  litde 
man,  only  about  five  feet  tall.  His  health  was  very 
poor  all  his  life,  but  his  church  took  loving  care  of 
him,  for  he  was  gready  liked.  One  day,  when  Watts 
was  sick,  Sir  Thomas  Abney  invited  him  to  his 
splendid  home  for  a  week.  He  became  so  dear  to 
the  household  that  they  kept  him  there  for  the  rest 
of  his  life, — thirty-six  years  I 

Besides  his  preaching,  Dr.  Watts  wrote  much. 
He  was  a  most  zealous  student  of  geography,  as- 
tronomy,  philosophy,  and  theology,  and  he  wrote 

82 


Am  I  a  Soldier  of  the  Cross  ?  83 

books  on  all  these  themes.  His  great  life-work, 
however,  as  he  himself  saw,  was  his  hymn-writing. 

Early  in  life  he  became  wearied  with  the  versified 
Psalms  which  the  churches  used  and  set  out  to  com- 
pose hymns  of  his  own.  This  was  a  new  departure 
and  met  with  persistent  opposition,  but  his  hymns 
soon  became  widely  popular  in  nearly  all  the  churches. 
In  1707  Watts  published  his  famous  collection  of 
original  hymns,  which  he  entitled  *'  Hymns  and 
Spiritual  Songs."  Only  two  or  three  copies  are 
now  in  existence,  and  one  of  these  sold  in  1901  for 
$700.  There  were  210  hymns  in  this  first  edition, 
and  144  were  added  to  the  second  edition. 

The  greatest  of  Watts's  hymns  is  probably  **  When 
I  survey  the  wondrous  Cross,"  and  many — Matthew 
Arnold  among  them — have  called  it  the  greatest 
hymn  in  the  English  language.  Among  the  other 
great  hymns  of  this  splendid  Christian  poet  are 
*'  Jesus  shall  reign  where'er  the  sun,"  "  Before  Jeho- 
vah's awful  throne,"  **  From  all  that  dwell  below  the 
skies,"  **  Come,  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs," 
"  There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight,"  "  Our  God  !  our 
help  in  ages  past,"  **  Alas  !  and  did  my  Saviour 
bleed,"  "  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove,"  **  Give 
me  the  wings  of  faith  to  rise."  Many  of  Watts's  chil- 
dren's hymns  have  become  famous,  such  as  "  Let 
dogs  delight  to  bark  and  bite,"  "  How  doth  the  little 
busy  bee,"  and  the  sweet  cradle-song,  "  Hush,  my 
dear,  lie  still  and  slumber."  Watts  had  no  children 
of  his  own,  but  well  did  he  know  the  child's  heart. 

The  poet  died  November  25,  1748,  and  was  buried 
at  Bunhill  Fields,  London,  near  the  graves  of  John 


84  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Bunyan  and  Daniel  Defoe.  He  is  to  be  ranked  with 
Charles  Wesley,  the  two  standing  together  at  the 
summit  of  English  sacred  verse. 

The  noble  hymn  that  we  are  to  commit  to  memory 
was  written  by  Dr.  Watts  in  1709,  to  follow  a  sermon 
on  I  Cor.  16 :  13,  "  Watch  ye,  stand  fast  in  the  faith, 
quit  you  like  men,  be  strong."  It  is  sometimes  con- 
densed to  four  stanzas,  but  surely  we  shall  not  wish 
to  lose  the  last  two.     Here  it  is  : — 

Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  cross, 

A  follower  of  the  Lamb  ? 
And  shall  I  fear  to  own  His  cause 

Or  blush  to  speak  His  name  ? 

Must  I  be  carried  to  the  skies 

On  flowery  beds  of  ease  ? 
While  others  fought  to  win  the  prize. 

And  sailed  through  bloody  seas  ? 

Are  there  no  foes  for  me  to  face  ? 

Must  I  not  stem  the  flood  ? 
Is  this  vile  world  a  friend  to  grace. 

To  help  me  on  to  God  ? 

Sure  I  must  fight,  if  I  would  reign ; 

Increase  my  courage,  Lord  ! 
I'll  bear  the  toil,  endure  the  pain, 

Supported  by  Thy  word. 

Thy  saints,  in  all  this  glorious  war, 

Shall  conquer,  though  they  die ; 
They  view  the  triumph  from  afar. 

And  seize  it  with  their  eye. 

When  that  illustrious  day  shall  rise, 

And  all  Thy  armies  shine 
In  robes  of  victory  through  the  skies, 

The  glory  shall  be  Thine. 


**  Stand  Up,  Stand  Up  for  Jesus!'' 

George  Duffield. 

IN  the  spring  of  1858  there  was  a  great  revival  in 
Philadelphia,  and  one  of  the  leaders  of  it  was  an 
earnest,  manly  young  minister,  not  quite  thirty  years 
old,  named  Dudley  A.  Tyng.  One  day  Mr.  Tyng's 
arm  got  caught  in  some  machinery  and  fearfully 
torn.  The  arm  was  amputated,  but  in  a  few  days 
the  noble  young  man  died  of  his  injuries. 

As  he  was  dying  he  sent  a  message  to  the  min- 
isters who  had  worked  with  him  in  the  revival,  and 
the  message  began  with  these  words :  "  Tell  them, 
*  Let  us  all  stand  up  for  Jesus.'  "  The  words  made 
a  deep  impression.  They  were  quoted  often  before 
large  assemblies,  and  they  were  made  the  basis  of 
more  than  one  poem. 

Among  Mr.  Tyng's  most  devoted  friends  was 
Rev.  George  Duffield.  A  few  weeks  after  the  sad 
accident  he  preached  in  his  own  church  in  Philadel- 
phia, taking  as  his  text  Eph.  6 :  14,  *'  Stand,  therefore, 
having  your  loins  girt  about  with  truth,  and  having 
on  the  breastplate  of  righteousness"  ;  and  closing 
his  sermon  with  the  hymn  which  he  had  just  written, 
"  Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus."  The  song  at  once 
became  popular,  was  introduced  into  the  hymn- 
books,  and  became  an  especial  favorite  of  the  sol- 
diers during  the  Civil  War. 

Here  is  the  hymn  just  as  Mr.  Duffield  wrote  it, 

85 


86  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

including    the    two    stanzas    that    are    now   never 
printed  : — 

Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus, 

Ye  soldiers  of  the  cross ; 
Lift  high  His  royal  banner, 

It  must  not  suffer  loss : 
From  victory  unto  victory 

His  army  He  shall  lead, 
Till  every  foe  is  vanquished, 

And  Christ  is  Lord  indeed. 

[Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus, 

The  solemn  watchword  hear ; 
If  while  ye  sleep  He  suffers, 

Away  with  shame  and  fear ; 
Where'er  ye  meet  with  evil, 

Within  you  or  without. 
Charge  for  the  God  of  Battles, 

And  put  the  foe  to  rout.] 

Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus, 

The  trumpet  call  obey ; 
Forth  to  the  mighty  conflict 

In  this  His  glorious  day  : 
Ye  that  are  men  now  serve  Him 

Against  unnumbered  foes ; 
Let  courage  rise  with  danger. 

And  strength  to  strength  oppose. 

Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus, 

Stand  in  His  strength  alone. 
The  arm  of  flesh  will  fail  you, 

Ye  dare  not  trust  your  own : 
Put  on  the  gospel  armor. 

Each  piece  put  on  with  prayer ; 
Where  duty  calls,  or  danger. 

Be  never  wanting  there. 


Stand  Up,  Stand  Up  for  Jesus !  87 

[Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus, 

Each  soldier  to  his  post ; 
Close  up  the  broken  column, 

And  shout  through  all  the  host : 
Make  good  the  loss  so  heavy. 

In  those  that  still  remain. 
And  prove  to  all  around  you 

That  death  itself  is  gain.] 

Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus, 

The  strife  will  not  be  long ; 
This  day  the  noise  of  battle, 

The  next  the  victor's  song  : 
To  him  that  overcometh 

A  crown  of  life  shall  be ; 
He  with  the  King  of  Glory 

Shall  reign  eternally. 

Mr.  Duffield  was  the  father  of  a  poet,  Rev.  Sam- 
uel W.  Duffield.  He  was  a  Presbyterian,  and  during 
his  long  life  (1818  to  1888)  he  served  Christ  faithfully 
in  many  churches ;  but  probably  the  most  fruitful  of 
all  his  labors  was  the  writing  of  this  hymn,  which 
has  inspired  so  many  to  speak  and  act  boldly  for 
their  Saviour. 

The  reference,  in  the  second  stanza,  to  the  dis- 
ciples' sleeping  in  Gethsemane,  recalls  a  sermon 
preached  from  that  passage  by  Mr.  Tyng  during  the 
revival,  not  long  before  his  death.  Note  especially 
also  the  sixth  line  of  stanza  four,  which  is  often 
changed  (foolishly)  to  *'  And,  watching  unto  prayer." 


"Onward,  Christian  Soldiers." 
Sabine  Baring- Gould. 

THIS  stirring  poem  is  the  chief  marching  hymn 
in  the  English  language.  It  was  written  very 
hastily  one  evening  by  a  remarkable  man,  Rev.  Sa- 
bine Baring-Gould,  then  curate  of  an  Episcopal 
church  at  Horbury,  Yorkshire,  England.  It  was  the 
day  before  the  Whitmonday  holiday,  in  1865.  The 
children  of  his  village  school  were  to  march  to  the 
next  village  and  meet  there  the  children  of  another 
school.  No  good  song  could  be  found  for  them  to 
sing  while  marching,  and  it  was  to  meet  this  emer- 
gency that  the  hymn  was  written. 

It  had  originally  six  stanzas,  as  follows  : — 

Onward,  Christian  soldiers, 

Marching  as  to  war, 
With  the  cross  of  Jesus 

Going  on  before : 
Christ  the  Royal  Master 

Leads  against  the  foe ; 
Forward  into  battle, 

See,  His  banners  go. 

Onward,  Christian  soldiers, 

Marching  as  to  war, 
With  the  cross  of  Jesus 

Going  on  before. 
88 


On^ward,  Christian  Soldiers  89 

At  the  sign  of  triumph 

Satan's  host  doth  flee ; 
On  then,  Christian  soldiers, 

On  to  victory : 
Hell's  foundations  quiver 

At  the  shout  of  praise ; 
Brothers,  lift  your  voices, 

Loud  your  anthems  raise. 

Onward,  etc. 

Like  a  mighty  army 

Moves  the  Church  of  God  ; 
Brothers,  we  are  treading 

Where  the  saints  have  trod  ; 
We  are  not  divided, 

All  one  body  we. 
One  in  hope  and  doctrine, 

One  in  charity. 

Onward,  etc. 

What  the  saints  established 

That  I  hold  for  true, 
What  the  saints  believed 

That  believe  I  too. 
Long  as  earth  endureth 

Men  that  Faith  will  hold,— 
Kingdoms,  nations,  empires, 

In  destruction  rolled. 

Onward,  etc. 

Crowns  and  thrones  may  perish, 

Kingdoms  rise  and  wane, 
But  the  Church  of  Jesus 

Constant  will  remain ; 


go  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Gates  of  hell  can  never 

'Gainst  that  Church  prevail; 
We  have  Christ's  own  promise, 
And  that  cannot  fail. 

Onward,  etc. 

Onward,  then,  ye  people. 

Join  our  happy  throng, 
Blend  with  ours  your  voices 

In  the  triumph-song ; 
Glory,  laud,  and  honor 

Unto  Christ  the  King ; 
This  through  countless  ages 

Men  and  angels  sing. 

Onward,  etc. 

The  fourth  stanza  is  now  never  printed,  and  is 
plainly  inferior  to  the  others ;  the  second  stanza  is 
rarely  seen. 

Very  soon  the  hymn  appeared  in  our  country,  and 
the  martial  spirit  engendered  by  our  Civil  War  was, 
as  Dr.  Benson  thinks,  the  cause  of  its  immediate  and 
great  popularity.  This  popularity  was  augmented 
by  the  splendid  tune  written  for  the  hymn  in  1871  by 
Arthur  S.  Sullivan,  the  tune  to  which  it  is  universally 
sung. 

Mr.  Baring-Gould  was  born  in  1834  (January  28), 
and  is  still  living,  being  rector  of  Lew  Trenchard, 
Devonshire, — a  "  living"  within  the  gift  of  his  family, 
to  which  he  presented  himself  in  188 1.  He  is  the 
owner  of  3,000  acres  of  land,  inherited  through  three 
centuries  of  ancestors.    He  holds  the  important  office 


Onward,  Christian  Soldiers  gi 

of  justice  of  the  peace  (more  important  in  England 
than  in  the  United  States). 

Mr.  Baring-Gould  is  one  of  the  most  versatile  and 
industrious  of  men.  His  **  Lives  of  the  Saints  "  is  in 
fifteen  volumes.  His  "  Curious  Myths  of  the  Middle 
Ages"  is  a  famous  work ;  so  is  his  ''  Legends  of  the 
Old  Testament."  He  has  written  a  large  number  of 
learned  books,  besides  many  devotional  writings  and 
volumes  of  sermons.  In  addition,  he  is  one  of  the 
most  popular  of  English  novelists,  regularly  pro- 
ducing one  novel  a  year.  An  incomplete  list  of  his 
works  that  lies  before  me  includes  seventy-three 
titles.  All  this  work  has  been  done  with  the  pen, 
without  the  aid  of  a  secretary,  and  Mr.  Baring-Gould 
gives  as  the  sufficient  secret  of  his  accomplishments 
the  fact  that  when  he  has  begun  a  task,  he  sticks  to 
it  till  it  is  finished.  He  often  does  his  best  work,  he 
says,  when  he  feels  least  like  working,  and  he  never 
waits  for  **  inspiration,"  but  plunges  determinedly  at 
his  work. 

"Onward,  Christian  soldiers  "  is  not  by  any  means 
the  only  famous  hymn  Mr.  Baring-Gould  has  writ- 
ten. Others  from  his  graceful  and  vigorous  pen  are 
"  Now  the  day  is  over,"  and  "  Through  the  night  of 
doubt  and  shadow." 


"Awake,  My  Soul." 
Bishop  Thomas  Ke7i. 

THE  first  great  hymn-writer  of  England  was  the 
good  Bishop  Thomas  Ken,  who  lived  during 
the  times  of  Cromwell  and  the  kings  that  followed 
him.  He  was  born  in  1637,  and  died  in  171 1,  after 
a  long  and  troubled  life,  in  which  he  took  the  part  of 
a  hero. 

His  mother  died  when  he  was  a  child,  and  he  was 
brought  up  by  his  brother-in-law,  that  famous  and 
pure-hearted  angler,  Izaak  Walton.  He  went  to 
school,  therefore,  at  Winchester,  and  his  name  may 
still  be  seen  there,  cut  in  one  of  the  stone  pillars.  He 
graduated  from  Oxford. 

In  1679,  the  wife  of  William  of  Orange,  the  niece 
of  the  English  king,  asked  for  a  chaplain,  and  Charles 
II.  sent  Thomas  Ken  to  the  Hague.  But  Ken  had  a 
dispute  there,  because  he  was  too  bold  in  rebuking 
some  corruption  in  the  court,  and  he  left  the  Hague 
in  1680.  Then  Charles  made  him  one  of  his  own 
chaplains. 

Once  more  he  lived  in  Winchester,  and  in  1683 
King  Charles  came  there  and  asked  Ken  to  give  up 
his  house  temporarily  for  the  accommodation  of  a 
certain  dissolute  woman  who  was  with  the  King. 
*'  Not  for  the  King's  kingdom,"  was  Ken's  prompt 
and  unflinching  reply. 

92 


Awake,  My  Soul  93 

Charles  had  sense  enough  to  see  that  such  a  man 
was  worth  while,  and  the  next  year,  when  the  bishop- 
ric of  Bath  and  Wells  became  vacant,  he  asked: 
**  Where  is  the  little  man  who  wouldn't  give  poor 
Nell  a  lodging?  Give  it  to  him."  And  so  Thomas 
Ken  became  a  bishop. 

But  Charles  II.  died  soon  after,  and  the  uncompro- 
mising character  of  Ken  soon  got  him  into  trouble 
again  with  the  court.  In  1688  he  so  offended  James 
II.  that  he  was  sent  to  the  Tower,  but  he  was  soon 
afterward  acquitted.  When  William  III.  came  to 
the  throne,  the  heroic  clergyman  was  deposed  from 
his  bishopric,  and  though  Queen  Anne  received  him 
back  again  into  partial  favor,  and  gave  him  a  pen- 
sion of  a  thousand  dollars  a  year,  he  was  not  restored 
to  his  place  as  a  bishop.  However,  the  last  years  of 
his  life  were  peaceful,  and  he  died  serenely. 

Bishop  Ken,  though  he  wrote  many  hymns,  and 
wished  his  hymns  to  live  on  the  lips  of  all  succeed- 
ing generations,  penned  only  three  hymns  that  are 
now  in  common  use.  These  three,  however,  are 
great  compositions,  and  one  of  them,  the  "  long- 
metre  Doxology,"  "Praise  God  from  whom  all  bless- 
ings flow,"  is  more  often  repeated  by  bodies  of  Chris- 
tians than  any  other  set  of  words  except  the  Lord's 
Prayer. 

The  other  two  hymns  that  have  become  famous 
are  the  morning  hymn  here  given,  and  the  evening 
hymn  beginning,  '*  Glory  to  Thee,  my  God,  this 
night."  The  four  lines  of  the  immortal  Doxology 
were  originally  printed  at  the  close  of  both  the  morn- 
ing and  the  evening  hymns. 


94  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Awake,  my  soul,  and  with  the  sun 
Thy  daily  stage  of  duty  run ; 
Shake  off  dull  sloth,  and  joyful  rise 
To  pay  thy  morning  sacrifice. 

Awake,  lift  up  thyself,  my  heart, 
And  with  the  angels  bear  thy  part. 
Who  all  night  long  unwearied  sing 
High  praises  to  the  eternal  King. 

Glory  to  Thee,  who  safe  hast  kept, 
And  hast  refreshed  me  while  I  slept ; 
Grant,  Lord,  when  I  from  death  shall  wake, 
I  may  of  endless  life  partake. 

Lord,  I  my  vows  to  Thee  renew  : 
Scatter  my  sins  as  morning  dew ; 
Guard  my  first  springs  of  thought  and  will, 
And  with  Thyself  my  spirit  fill. 

Direct,  control,  suggest  this  day, 

All  I  design,  or  do,  or  say ; 

That  all  my  powers,  with  all  their  might, 

In  Thy  sole  glory  may  unite. 


"Abide  with  Me." 

Henry  Francis  Lyte. 

HENRY  FRANCIS  LYTE,  the  author  of  this, 
one  of  the  greatest  of  all  hymns,  was  born 
June  I,  1793,  at  Ednam,  near  Kelso,  Scotland,  where 
also  was  born  the  poet  James  Thomson,  author  of 
"  The  Seasons."  He  was  early  left  an  orphan,  and 
in  comparative  poverty.  Three  times  in  college  his 
poems  won  him  prizes.  At  first  he  intended  to  be  a 
physician,  but  fortunately  he  became  a  clergyman  of 
the  Church  of  England. 

One  day,  in  Cornwall,  a  brother  clergyman,  on 
his  death-bed,  sent  to  Lyte  that  the  young  man 
might  give  him  spiritual  comfort.  To  their  mutual 
grief,  they  found  themselves  groping  for  the  light, 
veritable  blind  guides.  Their  search  led  them  into 
confident  certainty,  and  Lyte  emerged  from  that 
sick-room  a  changed  man. 

It  was  this  experience,  it  is  said,  that  prompted 
Lyte's  noble  hymn,  "  Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken." 

He  took  charge,  in  1823,  of  a  seashore  parish. 
Lower  Brixham,  in  Devonshire.  There,  amid  rough 
seafaring  men,  he  toiled  for  twenty-four  years,  till 
his  death.  He  gathered  a  Sunday  school  of  several 
hundred  scholars,  and  trained  a  splendid  company 
of  seventy  or  eighty  teachers.  For  this  church  he 
wrote  nearly  all  his  hymns. 

But  *'  the  sword  was  too  sharp  for  the  scabbard." 

95 


96  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Ever  of  delicate  health  and  threatened  with  con- 
sumption, he  became  obliged  to  spend  his  winters 
in  the  warmth  of  southern  Europe. 

Greatly  weakened,  on  the  fourth  of  September, 
1847,  he  was  about  to  leave  England  for  this  pur- 
pose when  he  was  seized  with  an  irresistible  desire 
to  preach  to  his  people  once  more.  Against  the 
protest  of  his  amazed  friends,  he  accomplished  this 
purpose.  "  O  brethren,"  he  said,  as  he  entered  the 
familiar  pulpit  for  the  last  time,  *'  I  stand  here  among 
you  to-day,  as  alive  from  the  dead,  if  I  may  hope  to 
impress  it  upon  you,  and  induce  you  to  prepare  for 
that  solemn  hour  which  must  come  to  all,  by  a  timely 
acquaintance  with  the  death  of  Christ."  He  closed 
his  service  by  administering  to  his  weeping  people 
the  Holy  Communion. 

That  evening  the  impulse  to  poetical  composition 
came  upon  him,  and  he  wrote  his  last  and  greatest 
hymn : — 

Abide  with  me  :  fast  falls  the  eventide ; 
The  darkness  deepens  ;  Lord,  with  me  abide  : 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  O  abide  with  me. 

Swift  to  its  close  ebbs  out  life's  little  day ; 
Earth's  joys  grow  dim,  its  glories  pass  away  ; 
Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see ; 
O  Thou  who  changest  not,  abide  with  me. 

Not  a  brief  glance  I  beg,  a  passing  word  ; 
But,  as  Thou  dwell'st  with  Thy  disciples,  Lord, 
Familiar,  condescending,  patient,  free, 
Come,  not  to  sojourn,  but  abide,  with  me. 


Abide  with  Me  97 


Come  not  in  terrors,  as  the  King  of  kings  ; 
But  kind  and  good,  with  healing  in  Thy  wings ; 
Tears  for  all  woes,  a  heart  for  every  plea  ; 
Come,  Friend  of  sinners,  and  thus  '  bide  with  me. 

Thou  on  my  head  in  early  youth  didst  smile ; 
And,  though  rebellious  and  perverse  meanwhile, 
Thou  hast  not  left  me,  oft  as  I  left  Thee  : 
On  to  the  close,  O  Lord,  abide  with  me. 

I  need  Thy  presence  every  passing  hour  ; 
What  but  Thy  grace  can  foil  the  tempter's  power  ? 
Who  like  Thyself  my  guide  and  stay  can  be  ? 
Through  cloud  and  sunshine,  O  abide  with  me. 

I  fear  no  foe,  with  Thee  at  hand  to  bless  : 
Ills  have  no  weight,  and  tears  no  bitterness. 
Where  is  death's  sting  ?  where,  grave,  thy  victory  ? 
I  triumph  still,  if  Thou  abide  with  me. 

Hold  Thou  Thy  cross  before  my  closing  eyes  ; 
Shine  through  the  gloom,  and  point  me  to  the  skies : 
Heaven's  morning  breaks,  and  earth's  vain  shadows  flee : 
In  life,  in  death,  O  Lord,  abide  with  me. 

This  hymn  he  handed  to  a  member  of  his  family 
that  very  night.  Setting  out  the  next  day,  Lyte 
reached  Nice,  where  he  died  on  November  20  of  the 
same  year,  1847,  his  last  words  being  **  Joy !  Peace  I " 
There  his  body  lies,  the  grave  marked  simply  by 
that  cross  which  he  named  in  the  last  stanza  of  his 
immortal  lyric. 

Thus  *'  Abide  with  me  '*  was  written  in  the  shadows 
of  death.  Moreover,  Mr.  Lyte  had  been  having  some 
trouble  with  his  people,  and  it  is  said  that  the  words, 


98  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

**  When  other  helpers  fail,"  were  prompted  by  the 
estrangement  of  some  of  his  helpers  in  the  church. 

In  an  earlier  poem,  "  Declining  Days,"  Lyte  had 
longed  to  leave  behind  him 

"  Some  simple  strain,  some  spirit-moving  lay. 
Some  sparklet  of  the  Soul  that  still  might  live 
When  I  was  passed  to  clay." 

In  the  closing  stanza  he  had  prayed  : 

"  O  Thou  !  whose  touch  can  lend 
Life  to  the  dead.  Thy  quick' ning  grace  supply, 
And  grant  me,  swanlike,  my  last  breath  to  spend 
In  song  that  may  not  die  !  " 

Truly  that  prayer  was  answered.  Few  swan 
songs  in  all  earth's  history  have  been  so  honored  by 
God  and  man. 

The  hymn  was  based,  of  course,  on  the  scene  at 
Emmaus,  and  the  words  (Luke  24 :  29),  **  Abide  with 
us :  for  it  is  toward  evening,  and  the  day  is  far 
spent."  It  is  not,  however,  an  evening  hymn ;  for 
the  evening  thought  of  by  the  poet  in  his  hymn  was 
the  twilight  of  life,  the  night  of  death. 

Of  the  eight  verses  originally  written,  and  given 
above,  the  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  are  usually  omitted 
from  our  hymn-books.  Contrary  to  the  usual  result 
in  such  condensations,  there  is  here  a  gain  in  force, 
as  most  readers  will  feel.  All,  however,  will  wish  to 
preserve  the  entire  hymn. 

Lyte  himself  composed  a  tune  for  this  hymn  on 
the  same  evening  when  he  wrote  it,  but  the  tune 


Abide  with  Me  gg 


that  is  universally  used  with  it  was  written  by  Dr. 
William  Henry  Monk,  a  noted  London  musician,  in 
1 86 1.  The  tune  was  composed  in  ten  minutes,  to 
fill  a  blank  in  a  hymn-book. 

Among  Lyte's  other  hymns  the  best  known  are 
"  Pleasant  are  thy  courts  above,"  "  As  pants  the 
hart  for  cooling  streams,"  and  "  Praise,  my  soul, 
the  King  of  heaven."  **  In  no  other  writer,"  says 
Dr.  Breed,  "  are  poetry  and  religion  more  exquisitely 
united." 


"  God  Be  with  You  Till  We  Meet  Again." 

J.  E.  Rankin, 

THIS  beautiful  benediction  hymn  is  known  all  the 
world  around.  It  has  closed,  with  its  sweet 
strains  of  Christian  farewell,  religious  meetings  be- 
yond number. 

The  hymn  was  written  in  1882  by  Rev.  Jeremiah 
Eames  Rankin,  D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  who  was  at  that  time 
pastor  of  the  First  Congregational  Church  of  Wash- 
ington, D.  C.  It  was  written  to  interpret  the  famiUar 
words,  **  good-by,"  which  are  merely  a  contraction 
of  the  sentence,  "  God  be  with  you,"  and  it  was  com- 
posed as  a  Christian  benediction  hymn,  without 
being  intended  for  any  special  occasion.  Here  is  the 
poem  entire.  The  first,  second,  fourth,  and  seventh 
stanzas  are  all  that  are  commonly  sung : 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again, 
By  His  counsels  guide,  uphold  you ; 
With  His  sheep  securely  fold  you ; 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again, 
'Neath  His  wings  protecting  hide  you ; 
Daily  manna  still  divide  you  ; 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again, 

With  the  oil  of  joy  anoint  you  ; 

Sacred  ministries  appoint  you  ; 
God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 
100 


God  Be  with  You  Till  We  Meet  Again        loi 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again, 
When  life's  perils  thick  confound  you, 
Put  His  arms  unfaihng  round  you ; 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again, 

Of  His  promises  remind  you  ; 

For  life's  upper  garner  bind  you; 
God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again, 

Sicknesses  and  sorrows  taking, 

Never  leaving  nor  forsaking ; 
God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 
Keep  love's  banner  floating  o'er  you ; 
Smite  death's  threat' ning  wave  before  you  ; 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 

God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 

Ended  when  for  you  earth's  story, 

Israel's  chariot  sweep  to  glory  ; 
God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 


Chorus 


Till  we  meet  at  Jesus'  feet, 
God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again. 


I  copy  the  poem  from  Dr.  Rankin's  own  book,  giv- 
ing the  form  he  preferred.  He  objected  very 
strongly,  and  quite  properly,  to  the  changes  intro- 
duced by  the  hymn-tinkers,  such  as,  **  Put  His  loving 
arms  around  you,"  "  Daily  manna  ^\S}^  provide  you," 
and   the   repetition   in   the   chorus,  *'  Till   we  meet 


102  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

again''  These  changes  transformed  the  thought, 
and  are  certainly  the  reverse  of  an  improvement. 

Wherever  Christian  Endeavor  has  gone  this  hymn 
has  been  adopted,  and  it  has  been  translated  into 
many  tongues.  Not  only  have  Christian  Endeav- 
orers  come  to  love  the  song,  but  it  has  been  adopted 
by  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union  as  the 
benediction  song  of  that  organization  also.  It  has 
been  sung  on  many  other  farewell  occasions,  as,  for 
example,  in  Memphis  ten  years  ago,  when  a  com- 
pany of  three  thousand  persons,  bidding  farewell  to 
President  Roosevelt,  broke  out  spontaneously  with 
the  familiar  "  God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again." 

The  music  for  this  famous  hymn  was  composed,  at 
Dr.  Rankin's  request,  by  William  Gould  Tomer,  at 
that  time  a  school-teacher  in  Carpentersville,  N.  J. 
Mr.  Tomer's  music  was  slightly  revised  by  Dr.  J.  W. 
Bischoff,  the  blind  organist  of  Dr.  Rankin's  church. 
It  was  sung  in  that  church  for  the  first  time.  It  is  an 
interesting  fact  that  Mr.  Tomer  was  a  Methodist,  and 
that  the  Methodists  at  Ocean  Grove  first  made  the 
hymn  popular. 

Dr.  Rankin  was  descended  from  the  Scotch  Cov- 
enanters. He  was  the  cousin  of  Melinda  Rankin, 
the  stout-hearted  pioneer  missionary  to  Mexico.  He 
was  born  at  Thornton,  N.  H.,  January  2,  1828,  and 
died  at  Cleveland,  O.,  November  28,  1904,  aged 
nearly  seventy-seven  years.  His  long  and  useful  life 
included  about  thirty-five  years  as  a  pastor,  and 
about  seven  years  as  professor  and  president  at 
Howard  University,  that  noble  institution  for  colored 
people,  situated  in  Washington. 


God  Be  with  You  Till  We  Meet  Again       103 

Dr.  Rankin  wrote  many  poems,  and  published  a 
volume  of  hymns.  Among  his  hymns  that  have  be- 
come especially  famous  is, 

*'  Out  of  my  darkness  into  Thy  light, 
Out  of  my  weakness  into  Thy  might, 
Jesus,  I  come;  Jesus,  I  come." 

The  well-known  Christian  Endeavor  hymn,  **  Keep 
Your  Colors  Flying,"  was  written  for  the  Fifth  Inter- 
national Christian  Endeavor  Convention,  at  Saratoga, 
where  it  was  first  sung.  Dr.  Rankin  was  one  of  the 
speakers  at  that  convention,  and  was  from  the  start 
deeply  interested  in  Christian  Endeavor.  Writing 
concerning  his  famous  benediction  hymn,  he  once 
said  :  **  It  has  had  no  sweeter  recognition  than  that 
given  it  by  its  adoption  by  the  Young  People's 
Society  of  Christian  Endeavor.  Long,  long,  may 
they  sing  it  1" 


"O  Day  of  Rest  and  Gladness/' 
Bishop  Wordsworth. 

CHRISTOPHER  WORDSWORTH,  who  wrote 
this  beautiful  hymn  of  the  Lord's  Day,  was  a 
nephew  of  the  great  poet,  WiUiam  Wordsworth,  and 
his  biographer.  He  was  born  in  England  in  1807, 
and  died  in  1885. 

When  a  lad,  he  was  athletic,  and  a  famous  scholar. 
At  the  early  age  of  thirty  he  won  a  splendid  position, 
becoming  head  of  the  school  at  Harrow.  In  1844  he 
was  made  Canon  of  Westminster  Abbey,  and  op- 
posed the  appointment  of  Dr.  Arthur  Stanley  as 
dean,  because  of  Stanley's  liberal  views.  In  1869 
he  became  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  and  labored  most  suc- 
cessfully in  that  position  till  his  death. 

Bishop  Wordsworth  was  a  notable  scholar,  and 
wrote  many  books,  especially  an  important  work  on 
Greece,  and  a  learned  commentary  on  the  Bible. 
He  wrote  also  many  hymns,  127  in  all,  which  he 
placed  in  a  hymn-book  called  '*  The  Holy  Year," 
published  in  1862.  These  hymns  were  written  to 
illustrate  his  theory  that  hymns  should  not  deal  with 
personal,  individual  interests,  but  that  they  should 
teach  the  truths  of  Scripture,  and  voice  the  worship 
of  the  whole  congregation. 

The  first  hymn  of  the  book — almost  the  only 
hymn  of  Wordsworth's  that  is  well  known  or  much 

104 


O  Day  of  Rest  and  Gladness  105 

used — is  the  beautiful  lyric  we  are  studying.  It  is 
printed  here  just  as  it  was  written,  but  in  our  hymn- 
books  the  fourth  stanza  is  always  omitted,  as  dis- 
tinctly inferior  to  the  others. 

O  day  of  rest  and  gladness, 

O  day  of  joy  and  light, 
O  balm  of  care  and  sadness, 

Most  beautiful,  most  bright ; 
On  thee  the  high  and  lowly. 

Through  ages  join  in  tune, 
Sing  Holy,  Holy,  Holy, 

To  the  great  God  Triune. 

On  thee,  at  the  creation, 

The  light  first  had  its  birth ; 
On  thee,  for  our  salvation, 

Christ  rose  from  depths  of  earth  ; 
On  thee  our  Lord,  victorious. 

The  Spirit  sent  from  heaven  ; 
And  thus  on  thee,  most  glorious, 

A  triple  light  was  given. 

Thou  art  a  port  protected 

From  storms  that  round  us  rise ; 
A  garden  intersected 

With  streams  of  Paradise ; 
Thou  art  a  cooling  fountain 

In  life's  dry,  dreary  sand  ; 
From  thee,  like  Pisgah's  mountain, 

We  view  our  promised  land. 

Thou  art  a  holy  ladder. 

Where  angels  go  and  come  ; 
Each  Sunday  finds  us  gladder. 

Nearer  to  Heaven,  our  home. 


io6  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

A  day  of  sweet  reflection 
Thou  art,  a  day  of  love ; 

A  day  of  Resurrection 

From  earth  to  heaven  above. 

To-day  on  weary  nations 

The  heavenly  manna  falls : 
To  holy  convocations 

The  silver  trumpet  calls, 
Where  gospel  light  is  glowing 

With  pure  and  radiant  beams, 
And  living  water  flowing 

With  soul-refreshing  streams. 

New  graces  ever  gaining 

From  this  our  day  of  rest. 
We  reach  the  rest  remaining 

To  spirits  of  the  blest. 
To  Holy  Ghost  be  praises, 

To  Father,  and  to  Son  ; 
The  Church  her  voice  upraises 

To  Thee,  blest  Three  in  One. 


"  In  This  Consecration  Hour." 
Howard  Benjamin  Grose, 

DR.  HOWARD  BENJAMIN  GROSE  is  the  son 
of  a  Baptist  minister  who  was  also  the  editor 
and  publisher  of  a  village  paper,  and  at  nine  years 
of  age  the  boy  was  put  to  work  by  his  father  in  a 
printing-office.  He  followed  the  printer's  trade  until 
he  reached  the  age  of  seventeen,  learning  thoroughly 
all  parts  of  the  fascinating  work,  from  the  miscel- 
laneous jobs  of  the  *'  devil "  to  the  doing  of  job 
printing. 

He  had  altogether  less  than  two  years  of  regular 
schooling,  but  in  the  evenings  he  studied  Latin, 
Greek,  and  mathematics  with  the  help  of  an  Epis- 
copal rector  who  afterward  became  Bishop  Worth- 
ington. 

At  the  age  of  nineteen  the  ambitious  young  man 
was  able  to  enter  college,  at  first  paying  his  way  by 
typesetting,  and  in  his  freshman  year  by  newspaper 
reporting.  He  was  graduated  from  Rochester  Uni- 
versity in  1876,  and  became  associate  editor  of  The 
New  York  Examiner, 

Then,  in  1883,  he  was  called  to  the  pastorate  of 
the  First  Baptist  Church  of  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y. 
While  there  he  saw  an  item  describing  the  new 
young  people's  society  in  Portland,  Me.,  and  wrote 

107 


io8  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

to  Dr.  Clark,  the  pastor  of  the  church,  receiving 
from  him  a  copy  of  the  Christian  Endeavor  con- 
stitution. 

At  once  Mr.  Grose  organized  a  Christian  Endeavor 
society,  one  of  the  earliest  to  be  formed.  This  so- 
ciety is  strong  to-day,  and  through  all  these  years 
it  has  been  a  mainstay  of  the  church. 

Removing  to  Pittsburg,  Penn.,  as  pastor  of  the 
Fourth  Avenue  Baptist  Church,  Mr.  Grose  organized 
a  society  there.  From  Pittsburg  he  was  called  to 
the  presidency  of  the  South  Dakota  University,  and 
thence  to  the  new  University  of  Chicago  during  its 
organization  period. 

Drawn  to  New  England  in  1896,  he  became  asso- 
ciate editor  of  The  Watchman  of  Boston,  and  later 
he  was  chosen  editorial  secretary  of  the  American 
Baptist  Home  Mission  Society,  with  headquarters  in 
New  York  City. 

As  editor  of  The  Baptist  Home  Mission  Monthly 
he  made  a  publication  unexcelled  for  enterprise, 
brilliancy,  and  effectiveness,  and  when  the  Baptists 
decided  to  have  one  missionary  magazine  for  both 
home  and  foreign  work,  Dr.  Grose  was  made  its 
editor,  and  the  new  magazine.  Missions^  has  set  a 
new  standard  for  missionary  periodicals. 

Dr.  Grose  began  writing  very  early.  Converted 
at  the  age  of  twelve,  he  was  intrusted  by  his  father 
with  the  editing  of  a  religious  column  in  his  father's 
weekly  paper.  At  the  type-case  he  began  original 
composition,  sometimes  filling  his  column  with  para- 
graph sermons. 

He  has  become  a  skilled  and  exceedingly  attractive 


In  This  Consecration  Hour  109 

writer,  his  most  notable  book  being  the  text-book  on 
immigration, ''  Aliens  or  Americans?'*  written  for  the 
Young  People's  Missionary  Movement,  of  whose 
central  board  he  is  a  member.  This  is  a  fascinating 
text-book,  and  has  had  a  phenomenal  sale. 

It  was  followed  by  the  home-mission-study  text- 
book, **  Advance  in  the  Antilles,"  an  equally  strong 
contribution  to  the  literature  of  missions,  which 
gathers  up  the  observations  made  by  Dr.  Grose  in 
his  visits  to  the  West  Indies. 

Dr.  Grose's  degree  of  doctor  of  divinity  was  con- 
ferred upon  him  in  1907  by  Brown  University. 
Deeply  interested  in  the  cause  of  Christian  unity,  he 
has  served  as  chairman  of  the  business  committee  of 
the  Federal  Council  of  Churches,  and  is  also  a  mem- 
ber of  its  commission  on  social  service. 

Dr.  Grose,  accompanied  by  a  delegate,  went  to 
the  Old  Orchard  Convention  of  Christian  Endeavor 
societies  in  1885,  and  was  elected  one  of  the  original 
trustees  of  the  United  Society  of  Christian  Endeavor, 
an  office  which  he  still  holds,  being  the  vice-president 
of  the  United  Society.  He  organized  the  New  York 
State  Christian  Endeavor  Union,  and  was  its  first 
president,  serving  for  two  terms.  When  in  Pitts- 
burg he  organized  the  Pittsburg  Union,  which  be- 
came one  of  the  strongest  of  the  Christian  Endeavor 
local  unions. 

Dr.  Grose  designed  the  Christian  Endeavor  mono- 
gram pin,  which  is  now  to  be  seen  in  all  parts  of  the 
world.  He  has  spoken  hundreds  of  times  in  all 
kinds  of  Christian  Endeavor  conventions,  from  the 
local  gatherings  to  the  great  world's  conventions. 


no  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Among  Dr.  Grose's  many  contributions  to  the 
cause  of  Christian  Endeavor  his  musical  services 
have  been  valuable  and  prominent.  He  was  one  of 
the  most  active  editors  of  "  The  Endeavor  Hymnal " 
and  of  "  The  Praise  Book,"  and  he  is  especially  in- 
terested in  elevating  young  people's  taste  in  the 
matter  of  hymns.  He  is  himself  a  writer  of  verse  of 
much  merit,  and  has  a  keen  sense  of  strong  musical 
composition. 

As  to  this  consecration  hymn,  "  In  This  Consecra- 
tion Hour,"  Dr.  Grose  says  that  it  was  not  born 
of  special  inspiration  or  unusual  circumstances,  but 
sprung  from  a  pastor's  conscious  need  of  more  con- 
secration hymns  for  the  Christian  Endeavor  consecra- 
tion meetings.  The  familiar  hymns  are  good,  but 
too  few,  necessitating  too  frequent  repetition.  It 
seemed  to  him  also  that  the  note  of  consecration 
might  profitably  be  linked  to  service  and  purpose, 
rather  than  merely  to  the  idea  of  surrender.  In 
response  to  that  need  and  mood  the  words  came, 
and  were  written  expressly  for  the  tune,  **  Blumen- 
thal,"  which  seems  admirably  fitted  for  such  a  theme. 
This  is  the  hymn  : — 


In  this  consecration  hour, 

Lord,  I  lift  my  soul  to  Thee ; 
Visit  me  in  saving  power, 

From  myself,  O,  set  me  free. 
Hear,  O  God,  my  earnest  prayer, 
For  Thy  work  my  soul  prepare, 
In  Thy  service  give  me  share  ; 
Hearken,  Father,  to  my  plea. 


In  This  Consecration  Hour  iii 

As  in  penitence  I  bow, 

Love  divine  to  me  reveal ; 
As  I  here  renew  my  vow, 

Fill  me,  Lord,  with  holy  zeal. 
Hear  me,  Father,  as  I  pray, 
Grace  bestow  for  each  new  day, 
Keep  me  near  Thee  all  the  way ; 

Hear,  O  Father,  my  appeal. 


"  Blest  Be  the  Tie  That  Binds." 

John  Fawcett. 

THE  author  of  this  favorite  hymn,  one  of  the 
most  commonly  used  of  all  our  Christian  songs, 
was  John  Fawcett,  who  was  born  on  January  17, 
1739,  at  Lid  get  Green,  Yorkshire,  England. 

When  he  was  thirteen  years  old  he  was  appren- 
ticed to  a  London  tailor,  and  remained  with  him 
through  his  period  of  apprenticeship,  which  was  six 
years. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  was  converted  by  a  sermon 
preached  by  the  famous  evangelist,  George  White- 
field,  the  text  being  John  3  :  14,  and  in  1765  he  was 
ordained  as  a  Baptist  minister,  and  soon  obtained  a 
small  church  at  Wainsgate  in  Yorkshire.  Here  he 
remained  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  serving  his  people 
with  great  fidelity. 

In  1772  he  was  called  to  become  the  pastor  of  a 
famous  Baptist  church  in  London. 

He  accepted  the  call,  preached  his  farewell  sermon, 
and  had  already  placed  his  household  goods  upon 
wagons  when  the  love  and  the  tears  of  his  people 
gathered  around  him  prevailed,  and  he  found  it 
impossible  to  leave  them. 

It  was  within  a  week,  while  the  memory  of  this 
affecting  scene  was  fresh  upon  him,  that  he  wrote 

112 


Blest  Be  the  Tie  That  Binds  113 

this  hymn  of  Christian  fellowship,  **  Blest  be  the  tie 
that  binds." 

Though  his  position  gave  him  a  salary  of  less  than 
$200  a  year,  and  though  he  received  other  invitations 
to  fields  that  were  more  attractive  from  a  worldly 
point  of  view,  he  accepted  none  of  them. 

In  181 1  he  received  the  degree  of  doctor  of  divinity 
from  Brown  University  in  the  United  States. 

He  died  on  July  25,  181 7,  at  the  age  of  seventy- 
eight.  His  last  words  were,  '*  Come,  Lord  Jesus, 
come  quickly." 

Dr.  Fawcett  wrote  many  prose  religious  works, 
and  six  volumes  of  poems.  In  1780  his  address  on 
**  Anger  "  was  presented  to  George  III.,  and  it  found 
so  great  favor  with  the  monarch  that  he  offered  to 
give  the  writer  any  favor  he  might  ask. 

Dr.  Fawcett  did  not  accept  the  kindness  at  the 
time,  but  later,  when  the  son  of  one  of  his  intimate 
friends  was  convicted  of  forgery,  and,  in  accordance 
with  the  laws  of  the  times,  was  sentenced  to  be  hung, 
he  besought  pardon  for  him  from  the  king,  and  in 
memory  of  his  book  he  obtained  it. 

In  1782  he  issued  a  volume  containing  166  hymns. 
Most  of  these  hymns  he  composed  at  midnight  on 
Saturday  to  be  sung  after  his  sermon  on  the  follow- 
ing day.  Among  the  most  famous  of  his  hymns  are, 
*'  How  precious  is  the  Book  Divine,"  ''Thus  far  my 
God  hath  led  me  on,"  "  Praise  to  Thee,  thou  great 
Creator,"  and  "Thy  way,  O  God,  is  in  the  sea." 
Many  think  that  he  also  wrote  the  hymn,  "Lord, 
dismiss  us  with  Thy  blessing,"  the  authorship  of 
which  is  uncertain. 


114  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

But  of  all  his  hymns  by  far  the  most  famous  is 
"  Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds."  Instances  of  its  use 
on  notable  occasions  are  very  numerous.  A  famous 
example  is  the  story  of  the  missionary,  Coffin,  who, 
in  i860,  left  his  station  at  Aintab,  Turkey,  to  explore 
a  dangerous  and  distant  region  of  the  Taurus  Moun- 
tains. His  loving  Armenian  converts,  to  the  number 
of  1,500,  expecting  not  to  see  his  face  again,  gath- 
ered on  the  road  over  which  he  was  to  pass,  and  as 
their  farewell  sang,  "  Blest  be  the  tie." 

When  Moody  was  a  Sunday-school  superintendent 
in  Chicago,  one  of  his  teachers  who  had  a  class  of 
girls  learned  that  he  was  threatened  with  a  fatal  dis- 
ease and  must  leave  the  city. 

Conscience-stricken  because  he  had  not  sought 
earnestly  for  the  conversion  of  his  class,  he  got  Mr. 
Moody  to  accompany  him,  and  in  a  carriage  for  ten 
days  they  visited  the  girls,  until  finally  every  one  of 
them  had  accepted  Christ. 

The  farewell  meeting  at  the  house  of  this  faithful 
teacher  was  profoundly  affecting,  and  as  they  tried 
to  sing  in  parting,  **  Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds,"  they 
were  all  so  moved  that  they  broke  down. 

Probably  the  most  notable  occasion  of  the  use  of 
this  hymn  was  at  the  famous  gathering  in  Pittsburg 
in  November,  1869,  when  the  two  divisions  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  the  Old  and  the  New  Schools, 
came  together  after  many  years  of  separation.  On 
the  consummation  of  this  union  *'  Blest  be  the  tie " 
was  sung  by  the  large  assembly. 

During  recent  years  this  hymn  has  been  constantly 
used  in  the  international  Christian  Endeavor  Con- 


Blest  Be  the  Tie  That  Binds  115 

ventions.  Almost  always  at  some  time  during  the 
Convention  the  American  national  hymn,  "  My 
country,  'tis  of  thee,"  and  the  British  national 
hymn,  "  God  save  the  King,"  are  sung,  and  are 
immediately  followed  by  ''  Blest  be  the  tie  that 
binds." 

This  sequence  of  hymns  was  most  impressively 
sung  at  the  World's  Christian  Endeavor  Convention 
in  London  in  1900,  and  at  the  close  of  the  Conven- 
tion, when  a  large  party  of  Christian  Endeavorers 
was  received  by  Queen  Victoria  at  Windsor  Castle, 
after  singing  '*  God  save  the  Queen,"  the  Endeavor- 
ers followed  it  with  '*  Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds." 

In  the  church  of  which  the  founder  of  Christian 
Endeavor,  Dr.  F.  E.  Clark,  is  a  member,  in  Auburn- 
dale,  Mass.,  every  Friday-night  church  prayer  meet- 
ing is  closed  by  the  singing  of  the  opening  stanza  of 
this  hymn  : — 


Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 
Our  hearts  in  Christian  love  ; 

The  fellowship  of  kindred  minds 
Is  like  to  that  above. 

Before  our  Father's  throne 
We  pour  our  ardent  prayers  ; 

Our  fears,  our  hopes,  our  aims  are  one, 
Our  comforts  and  our  cares. 

We  share  our  mutual  woes. 

Our  mutual  burdens  bear; 
And  often  for  each  other  flows 

The  sympathizing  tear. 


ii6  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

When  we  asunder  part, 
It  gives  us  inward  pain  ; 

But  we  shall  still  be  joined  in  heart, 
And  hope  to  meet  again. 

This  glorious  hope  revives 
Our  courage  by  the  way ; 

While  each  in  expectation  lives, 
And  longs  to  see  the  day. 

From  sorrow,  toil,  and  pain, 
And  sin,  we  shall  be  free, 

And  perfect  love  and  friendship  reign 
Through  all  eternity. 


"If  You  Cannot  on  the  Ocean." 

Ellen  M,  Huntington  Gates, 

MRS.  ELLEN  M.  HUNTINGTON  GATES,  the 
wife  of  Isaac  G.  Gates,  and  the  youngest  sister 
of  the  famous  financier,  Collis  P.  Huntington,  was 
born  in  Torrington,  Conn.  One  afternoon  in  the 
winter  of  i860,  according  to  her  own  account  (Heze- 
kiah  Butterworth,  whose  story  of  this  hymn  is  fuller 
than  that  of  any  other,  says  that  it  was  in  the  winter 
of  1861  and  1862),  she  was  looking  through  the  win- 
dow at  the  falling  snow  when  there  came  to  her  mind 
the  beautiful  hymn,  **  If  you  cannot  on  the  ocean." 
"  It  wrote  itself,"  she  afterward  declared,  "  and  I 
knew,  as  I  know  now,  that  the  poem  was  only  a 
simple  little  thing,  but  somehow  I  had  a  presenti- 
ment that  it  had  wings  and  would  fly  into  sorrowful 
hearts,  uplifting  and  strengthening  them." 

She  wrote  the  poem  on  her  slate,  and,  having 
written  it,  fell  on  her  knees  and  consecrated  it  to  a 
divine  purpose.  She  sent  free  copies  to  a  local  paper 
of  Cooperstown,  N.  Y.,  and  also  to  the  Baptist  paper, 
the  New  York  Examiner^  and  it  was  published  in 
both  of  these  periodicals. 

The  hymn  was  made  famous  by  the  following 
incident. 

In  February,  1865,  there  was  a  great  meeting  of 
the  United  States  Christian  Commission,  an  organ- 
ic? 


ii8  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

ization  for  the  care  of  the  soldiers  when  they  were 
sick  and  for  other  helpful  ministries.  The  meeting 
was  in  the  Senate  chamber,  and  Lincoln  was  there, 
together  with  Secretary  Seward,  who  was  then  the 
president  of  the  Christian  Commission.  The  hall  was 
crowded  with  distinguished  soldiers  and  civilians. 

As  part  ot  the  exercises  Philip  Phillips  sang  Mrs. 
Gates's  hymn,  **Your  Mission."  It  made  a  deep 
impression,  especially  in  the  fifth  stanza,  **  If  you 
cannot  in  the  conflict,"  etc.,  so  beautifully  appro- 
priate to  the  occasion.  President  Lincoln  wrote 
hastily  upon  a  scrap  of  paper  which  he  sent  to 
Secretary  Seward  near  the  close,  **  Let  us  have 
*  Your  Mission '  repeated." 

It  is  said  that  Mr.  Phillips  was  so  moved  by  his 
success  on  this  occasion  that  he  was  led  by  the  event 
to  give  up  everything  in  order  to  adopt  the  calling 
of  a  gospel  singer.  He  was  a  pioneer  in  this  work, 
and  it  was  his  example  that  led  Sankey  to  give  up 
his  business  as  a  revenue  officer  and  devote  his  life 
to  the  ministry  of  sacred  song.  All  of  this  can  be 
traced  back  directly  to  Mrs.  Gates's  beautiful  hymn. 

Mrs.  Gates  published  a  number  of  volumes  of 
poems,  including  "  Treasures  of  Kurium,"  and  "  The 
Dark :  To  the  Unborn  Peoples." 

She  lived  in  Elizabeth,  N.  J.,  when  she  wrote  this 
hymn,  but  lives  now  in  New  York  City. 

Other  famous  hymns  have  come  from  her  pen — 
**  Come  home  !  come  home  !  you  are  weary  at  heart," 
**  I  will  sing  you  a  song  of  that  beautiful  land,"  "  I 
am  now  a  child  of  God,"  "  O,  the  clanging  bells  of 
time,"  *'Say,  is  your  lamp  burning,  my  brother?" 


If  You  Cannot  on  the  Ocean  iig 

I  give  the  hymn  entire,  though  it  is  not  so  printed 
in  our  hymnals: — 

If  you  cannot  on  the  ocean 

Sail  among  the  swiftest  fleet, 
Rocking  on  the  highest  billow, 

Laughing  at  the  storms  you  meet. 
You  can  stand  among  the  sailors 

Anchored  yet  within  the  bay, 
You  can  lend  a  hand  to  help  them 

As  they  launch  their  boats  away. 

If  you  are  too  weak  to  journey 

Up  the  mountain  steep  and  high. 
You  can  stand  within  the  valley, 

Where  the  multitudes  go  by. 
You  can  chant  in  happy  measure. 

As  they  slowly  pass  along ; 
Though  they  may  forget  the  singer, 

They  will  not  forget  the  song. 

If  you  cannot,  in  the  harvest, 

Gather  up  the  richest  sheaves, — 
Many  a  grain  both  ripe  and  golden 

Oft  the  careless  reaper  leaves, — 
Go  and  glean  among  the  briars 

Growing  rank  against  the  wall. 
For  it  may  be  that  their  shadow 

Hides  the  heaviest  wheat  of  all. 

If  you  have  not  gold  and  silver 

Ever  ready  to  command, 
If  you  cannot  toward  the  needy 

Reach  an  ever-open  hand, 
You  can  visit  the  afflicted. 

O'er  the  erring  you  can  weep  ; 
With  the  Saviour's  true  disciples 

You  a  patient  watch  may  keep. 


120  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

If  you  cannot  in  the  conflict 

Prove  yourself  a  soldier  true, 
If,  where  fire  and  smoke  are  thickest, 

There's  no  work  for  you  to  do. 
When  the  battle-field  is  silent 

You  can  go  with  careful  tread, 
You  can  bear  away  the  wounded. 

You  can  cover  up  the  dead. 

Do  not,  then,  stand  idly  waiting 

For  some  greater  work  to  do ; 
Fortune  is  a  lazy  goddess, 

She  will  never  come  to  you. 
Go  and  toil  in  any  vineyard ; 

Do  not  fear  to  do  or  dare ; 
If  you  want  a  field  of  labor 

You  can  find  it  anywhere. 


"  Art  Thou  Weary,  Art  Thou  Languid?" 

John  Mason  Neale. 

THERE  are  few  dialogue  hymns,  and  of  those 
few  this  is  one  of  the  very  best.  It  was  writ- 
ten by  John  Mason  Neale,  D.  D.,  who  was  born  in 
London,  January  24,  18 18. 

His  father  died  when  the  boy  was  five  years  old, 
and  young  Neale  was  trained  by  his  mother, — '*  a 
mother,"  as  he  said  not  long  before  his  death,  "to 
whom  I  owe  more  than  I  can  express."  The  lad 
went  to  Cambridge  University,  and  was  the  best 
scholar  in  his  class.  One  of  the  university  prizes  he 
won  eleven  times. 

In  1840  Neale  became  a  minister  of  the  Church  of 
England.  He  was  a  man  of  mystical  temperament, 
more  like  a  monk  of  the  Middle  Ages  than  like  a 
modern  Englishman,  and  he  became  one  of  the  most 
advanced  ritualists  in  the  church.  He  founded  a 
sisterhood,  St.  Margaret's,  which  was,  and  is,  de- 
voted to  charity. 

His  practices  were  so  close  to  Roman  Catholicism 
that  he  aroused  much  popular  prejudice.  At  one 
time  he  was  attacked  by  a  mob  as  he  was  attending 
the  funeral  of  one  of  the  sisters  of  St.  Margaret,  con- 
cerning whom  the  absurd  rumor  was  that  he  had 
caused  her  to  contract  scarlet  fever  in  order  to  ob- 
tain her  money.     At  one  time  his  bishop  suspended 

121 


122  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

him  from  pastoral  functions  for  fourteen  years,  and 
some  of  the  religious  establishments  that  he  founded 
had  to  be  given  up.  For  many  years  before  his 
death  he  was  merely  the  warden  of  Sackville  Col- 
lege, an  obscure  almshouse,  on  a  salary  of  $135  a 
year.  He  continued,  however,  true  to  his  beliefs, 
and  he  was  so  kind  and  lovable  and  charitable 
toward  all  that  he  lived  down  the  prejudice  against 
himself.     He  passed  away  on  August  6,  1866. 

Dr.  Neale  was  a  remarkable  scholar,  learned  in 
other  languages,  and  skilful  in  the  use  of  English. 
There  is  a  story  that  at  one  time,  when  John  Keble 
was  visiting  him.  Dr.  Neale  excused  himself  and 
went  into  another  room  for  a  few  minutes,  and  upon 
his  return  said,  with  an  expression  of  surprise,  "I 
thought,  Keble,  that  all  your  poems  in  *  The  Chris- 
tian Year '  were  original ;  but  one  of  them,  at  least, 
seems  to  be  a  translation."  With  this  he  handed 
Keble,  to  the  amazement  of  the  poet,  an  admirable 
translation  into  Latin  of  one  of  Keble's  own  poems, 
a  translation  which  Dr.  Neale  had  made  during  his 
few  minutes*  absence  in  the  other  room. 

Dr.  Neale  was  particularly  fond  of  the  songs  of 
the  old  monks  written  in  Greek  and  Latin,  and  he 
did  more  than  any  one  else  to  make  them  known  to 
the  present  world.  Among  his  translations  from 
these  ancient  Latin  hymns  are  the  famous  "Jeru- 
salem, the  golden,'*  "  For  thee,  O  dear,  dear  coun- 
try," and  "  Brief  life  is  here  our  portion."  Among 
his  translations  from  the  Greek  are  **  Christian,  dost 
thou  see  them,"  **  The  day  is  past  and  over,"  and 
"  A  day  of  resurrection."     Perhaps  the  best  known 


Art  Thou  Weary,  Art  Thou  Languid?        123 

of  his  original  hymns  is  "  Holy  Father,  Thou  hast 
taught  me."  He  published  many  volumes  in  prose 
as  well  as  many  in  verse. 

The  hymn,  **  Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid," 
first  appeared  in  Dr.  Neale's  **  Hymns  of  the  Eastern 
Church,"  published  in  1862.  He  gave  it  the  quaint 
title,  "  Idiomela,  in  the  Week  of  the  First  Oblique 
Tone."  It  is  a  translation  from  the  Greek  of  St. 
Stephen  the  Sabaite,  a  monk  who  got  his  name  from 
the  monastery  in  which  he  lived,  that  of  St.  Sabas  in 
the  Kedron  Valley,  near  Bethlehem,  overlooking  the 
Dead  Sea.  The  monk,  who  was  born  in  725  A.  D., 
was  placed  in  that  solitary  monastery  at  the  age  of 
ten  years  by  his  uncle,  and  left  there  for  fifty  years. 
He  died  in  794.  Here  is  the  beautiful  hymn  that  he 
wrote  : — 

Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid. 
Art  thou  sore  distressed  ? 
"  Come  to  me,"  saith  One,  "  and,  coming, 
Be  at  rest." 

Hath  He  marks  to  lead  me  to  Him, 
If  He  be  my  Guide? 
"  In  His  feet  and  hands  are  wound-prints, 
And  His  side." 

Is  there  diadem  as  monarch. 
That  His  brow  adorns  ? 
*'  Yea,  a  crown,  in  very  surety  ; 
But  of  thorns." 

If  I  find  Him,  if  I  follow, 
What  His  guerdon  here  ? 
"  Many  a  sorrow,  many  a  labor, 
Many  a  tear." 


124  A.  Treasure  of  Hymns 

If  I  still  hold  closely  to  Him, 
What  hath  He  at  last  ? 
"  Sorrow  vanquished,  labor  ended, 
Jordan  passed." 

If  I  ask  Him  to  receive  me, 
Will  He  say  me  nay? 
*'  Not  till  earth  and  not  till  heaven 
Pass  away." 

Finding,  following,  keeping,  struggling. 
Is  He  sure  to  bless  ? 
"  Saints,  apostles,  prophets,  martyrs. 
Answer,  Yes." 


"  Courage,  Brother !     Do  Not  Stumble !  " 

Norman  MacLeod. 

THIS  is  one  of  the  most  stirring  and  forcible 
hymns  in  the  English  language,  vigorous  in  its 
expression,  and  full  of  fire  and  enthusiasm.  It  is  the 
work  of  Rev.  Norman  Macleod,  D.  D.,  a  Scottish 
clergyman,  who  was  born  at  Campbeltown,  June  3, 
1812.  His  education  was  obtained  in  the  universi- 
ties of  Glasgow  and  Edinburgh,  and  then  in  Ger- 
many. It  was  the  University  of  Glasgow  that  gave 
him  his  degree  of  doctor  of  divinity. 

Dr.  Macleod  was  pastor  of  churches  in  Loudoun 
and  Glasgow,  and  in  1841  he  was  made  one  of  the 
chaplains  to  Queen  Victoria.  Among  his  notable 
achievements  was  the  editing,  from  i860  till  his  death, 
of  the  popular  religious  periodical.  Good  Words, 

Dr.  Macleod  was  a  recognized  leader  in  the  Estab- 
lished Church  of  Scotland,  and  in  1869  became  the 
moderator  of  its  General  Assembly.  He  died  in 
Glasgow,  June  20,  1872. 

Dr.  Macleod  wrote  many  popular  religious  books 
in  prose.  The  hymn  before  us  is  by  far  the  best 
known  of  his  poems.  It  appeared  in  January,  1857, 
in  The  Edinburgh  Christian  Magazine,  which  he 
edited  for  some  years.  The  stirring  stanzas  are  as 
follows :  — 

125 


126  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Courage,  brother  !  do  not  stumble, 

Though  thy  path  be  dark  as  night ; 
There's  a  star  to  guide  the  humble, 

Trust  in  God,  and  do  the  right. 
Though  the  road  be  long  and  dreary, 

And  the  end  be  out  of  sight. 
Tread  it  bravely,  strong  or  weary, 

Trust  in  God,  and  do  the  right. 

Perish  policy  and  cunning, 

Perish  all  that  fears  the  light. 
Whether  losing,  whether  winning, 

Trust  in  God,  and  do  the  right. 
Shun  all  forms  of  guilty  passion. 

Fiends  can  look  like  angels  bright ; 
Heed  no  custom,  school,  or  fashion. 

Trust  in  God,  and  do  the  right. 

Some  will  hate  thee,  some  will  love  thee. 

Some  will  flatter,  some  will  slight ; 
Cease  from  man,  and  look  above  thee, 

Trust  in  God,  and  do  the  right. 
Simple  rule  and  safest  guiding. 

Inward  peace  and  shining  light. 
Star  upon  our  path  abiding, 

Trust  in  God,  and  do  the  right. 


"Two  Empires  by  the  Sea." 

George  Huntington. 

THE  International  Hymn  was  written  by  George 
Huntington,  who  was  born  November  5,  1835, 
in  Brooklyn,  Conn.,  and  who  is  now  living  in  North- 
field,  Minn.  Mr.  Huntington  is  of  good  stock,  as  his 
father  was  Dr.  Thomas  Huntington,  and  his  grand- 
father was  General  Jedediah  Huntington,  of  Norwich, 
Conn.,  a  Revolutionary  officer. 

After  graduating  at  Brown  University  and  taking 
special  studies  in  Andover  Theological  Seminary, 
Mr.  Huntington  became  pastor  of  several  Congrega- 
tional churches,  and  then  professor  of  rhetoric  and 
Biblical  literature  in  Carleton  College,  Northfield. 
He  has  been  editor  of  Sunday-school  periodicals,  has 
contributed  to  various  journals,  and  has  written  sev- 
eral volumes.  He  is  now  retired  from  his  professor- 
ship upon  the  Carnegie  Foundation. 

Professor  Huntington's  International  Hymn  was 
written  in  1896,  at  a  time  when  there  was  some  jingo 
talk  of  war  between  Great  Britain  and  the  United 
States,  which  was  met  by  strong  protests  on  the  part 
of  all  sensible  people  on  both  sides  of  the  water. 

The  hymn  was  first  published  in  The  Interior  of 
Chicago  (now  The  G?;//2;/^;2/),  and  was  sung  probably 
for  the  first  time  in  the  Congregational  church  of 
Northfield,  Minn.,  on  the  Sunday  following  Wash- 

127 


128  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

ington's  birthday,  February  23,  1896,  when  the  pas- 
tor, Rev.  J.  E.  McConnell,  preached  a  ringing  sermon 
on  conciliation,  and  President  Strong  offered  a  set 
of  resolutions  deprecating  war  and  advocating  a 
treaty  of  arbitration  and  an  international  court  for 
the  adjustment  of  international  difficulties. 

These  resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted  by 
the  congregation,  and  also  by  the  other  churches  of 
the  city  to  which  copies  had  been  sent,  and  the 
service  closed  with  the  singing  of  the  International 
Hymn.  The  hymn  was  given  to  the  Associated 
Press,  and  thus  found  its  way  into  common  use  in 
the  hymnals. 

Mr.  Andrew  Carnegie  used  the  hymn  one  year  in 
the  form  of  a  New  Year's  card  and  distributed  it  ex- 
tensively in  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain. 
International  gatherings  have  used  it  not  only  in  this 
country  but  in  other  lands,  as  in  England,  France, 
India,  Japan,  and  New  Zealand. 

Professor  Huntington  writes  me  very  modestly 
concerning  his  hymn,  speaking  of  it  as  '*  a  simple 
thing  with  no  striking  poetical  quality,  that  has 
chanced  to  thrive  upon  popular  sentiment.  It  was 
never  intended  as  a  rival  or  substitute  for  *  My  Coun- 
try, 'tis  of  Thee,'  or  as  a  national  hymn,  or  as  a  uni- 
versal peace  hymn,  but  merely  as  the  utterance  of  a 
sentiment  of  friendliness  between  England  and  our 
country."  Such  modesty  is  worthy  of  the  author  of 
this  fine  production. 

When  the  hymn  was  written  Queen  Victoria  was 
still  upon  the  throne,  and  the  third  stanza  in  its  clos- 
ing lines  read,  "  Great  populace  and  Queen."     The 


Two  Empires  by  the  Sea  129 

death  of  Queen  Victoria  made  it  necessary  to  change 
the  hymn,  which  Professor  Huntington  has  revised 
so  that  it  reads  as  follows  :  — 

Two  empires  by  the  sea, 
Two  nations  great  and  free, 

One  anthem  raise. 
One  race  of  ancient  fame, 
One  tongue,  one  faith,  we  claim, 
One  God,  whose  glorious  name 

We  love  and  praise. 

What  deeds  our  fathers  wrought, 
What  battles  we  have  fought. 

Let  fame  record. 
Now,  vengeful  passion,  cease; 
Come,  victories  of  peace ; 
Nor  hate  nor  pride's  caprice 

Unsheath  the  sword. 

Though  deep  the  sea,  and  wide, 
'Twixt  realm  and  realm,  its  tide 

Binds  strand  to  strand. 
So  be  the  gulf  between 
Gray  coasts  and  islands  green 
With  bonds  of  peace  serene. 

And  friendship  spanned. 

Now  may  the  God  above 
Guard  the  dear  lands  we  love. 

Both  East  and  West. 
Let  love  more  fervent  glow, 
As  peaceful  ages  go, 
And  strength  yet  stronger  grow, 

Blessing  and  blest. 


"Summer  Suns  Are  Glowing/' 

William  Walsham  How. 

A  NUMBER  of  our  best-known  hymns  were 
written  by  William  Walsham  How,  who  was 
born  in  Shrewsbury,  England,  December  13,  1823. 
He  graduated  from  Oxford  University  in  1845,  and 
at  once  entered  the  ministry  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. He  became  Dean  and  then  Canon  of  Whit- 
tington,  and  in  1879  Queen  Victoria  made  him 
Bishop  of  Bedford.  In  1888  he  became  Bishop  of 
Wakefield. 

Bishop  How  was  greatly  beloved  and  honored. 
At  one  time  in  a  public  address  he  described  the 
ideal  minister,  and  all  his  hearers  were  impressed 
with  the  thought  that  he  really  presented  a  picture 
of  his  own  life.  *'  Such  a  minister,"  said  Bishop 
How,  **  should  be  a  man  pure,  holy,  and  spotless  in 
his  life ;  a  man  of  much  prayer ;  in  character  meek, 
lowly,  and  infinitely  compassionate ;  of  tenderest 
love  to  all ;  full  of  sympathy  for  every  pain  and 
sorrow,  and  devoting  his  days  and  nights  to  lighten- 
ing the  burdens  of  humanity  ;  utterly  patient  of  in- 
sult and  enmity ;  utterly  fearless  in  speaking  the 
truth  and  rebuking  sin  ;  ever  ready  to  answer  every 
call,  to  go  wherever  bidden,  in  order  to  do  good ; 
wholly  without  thought  of  self ;  making  himself  the 
servant  of  all ;  patient,  gentle,  and  untiring  in  deal- 
ing with   the  souls  he  would  save  ;    bearing  with 

130 


Summer  Suns  Are  Glowing  131 

ignorance,  wilfulness,  slowness,  cowardice,  in  those 
of  whom  he  expects  most ;  sacrificing  all,  even  life 
itself,  if  need  be,  to  save  some." 

Bishop  How  wrote  many  books,  including  com- 
mentaries on  the  Gospels.  He  was  editor  of  several 
collections  of  hymns,  and  contributed  some  original 
hymns  to  these  books.  In  all  he  wrote  about  sixty 
hymns.  These  are  simple,  direct,  musical,  and 
practical.  His  best-known  hymns  are  "  O  Jesus, 
Thou  art  standing"  ;  **  For  all  the  saints  who  from 
their  labors  rest "  ;  **  We  give  Thee  but  Thine  own  "  ; 
"  O  Word  of  God  incarnate  "  ;  and  *'  Jesus,  name  of 
wondrous  love." 

Bishop  How's  summer  hymn  was  published  in 
1 87 1.  It  was  at  first  designed  for  children,  but  is 
now  used  largely  by  their  elders.     It  is  as  follows : 

Summer  suns  are  glowing 

Over  land  and  sea ; 
Happy  light  is  flowing 

Bountiful  and  free. 
Everything  rejoices 

In  the  mellow  rays ; 
All  earth's  thousand  voices 

Swell  the  psalm  of  praise. 

God's  free  mercy  streameth 

Over  all  the  world, 
And  His  banner  gleameth 

Everywhere  unfurled. 
Broad  and  deep  and  glorious 

As  the  heaven  above, 
Shines  in  might  victorious 

His  eternal  love. 


132  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Lord,  upon  our  blindness, 

Thy  pure  radiance  pour ; 
For  Thy  loving-kindness 

Makes  us  love  Thee  more. 
And  when  clouds  are  drifting 

Dark  across  our  sky, 
Then,  the  veil  uplifting, 

Father,  be  Thou  nigh. 

We  will  never  doubt  Thee, 

Though  Thou  veil  Thy  light ; 
Life  is  dark  without  Thee ; 

Death  with  Thee  is  bright. 
Light  of  light !  shine  o'er  us 

On  our  pilgrim  way ; 
Go  Thou  still  before  us 

To  the  endless  day. 


"  Behold !  a  Stranger  at  the  Door.*' 

Joseph  Grigg, 

THIS  beautiful  hymn,  a  prime  favorite  with  old 
and  young,  was  written  by  an  Englishman, 
Joseph  Grigg.  The  date  of  his  birth  is  uncertain, 
but  it  was  probably  1720.  His  parents  were  poor, 
and  he  was  raised  as  a  mechanic.  In  1743,  however, 
he  became  an  assistant  minister  in  a  London  Presby- 
terian church.  Upon  his  marriage  to  a  wealthy 
widow  in  1747  he  retired  from  his  pastorate,  though 
he  continued  to  preach  frequendy  in  the  pulpits  of 
his  brother  ministers.     He  died  on  October  29,  1768. 

Mr.  Grigg  wrote  more  than  forty  books,  and  about 
forty  hymns.  It  is  said  that  he  began  to  write 
hymns  when  he  was  ten  years  old,  and  the  hymn 
before  us  is  probably  among  the  number  of  those 
written  at  that  early  age.  At  any  rate,  it  appeared 
in  the  Gospel  Magazine  for  April,  1774,  with  the 
title,  **' Shame  of  Jesus  Conquered  by  Love,'  by  a 
youth  of  ten  years."  That  would  make  the  date  of 
the  hymn  1730.  Only  one  other  of  Mr.  Grigg's 
hymns  is  of  equal  popularity,  "Jesus,  and  can  it 
ever  be?" 

The  five  stanzas  of  our  hymn  are  as  follows  : — 

Behold  !  a  Stranger  at  the  door ; 
He  gently  knocks,  has  knocked  before ; 
Has  waited  long,  is  waiting  still ; 
You  treat  no  other  friend  so  ill. 

133 


134  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Oh,  lovely  attitude  !     He  stands 
With  melting  heart  and  laden  hands  ; 
Oh,  matchless  kindness  !  and  He  shows 
This  matchless  kindness  to  His  foes. 

But  will  He  prove  a  friend  indeed  ? 
He  will,  the  very  friend  you  need  — 
The  Friend  of  sinners ;  yes,  '  tis  He, 
With  garments  dyed  on  Calvary. 

Rise,  touched  with  gratitude  divine ; 
Turn  out  His  enemy  and  thine, 
That  soul-destroying  monster,  sin, 
And  let  the  heavenly  Stranger  in. 

Admit  Him  ere  His  anger  burn ; 
His  feet,  departed,  ne'er  return ; 
Admit  Him,  or  the  hour  's  at  hand 
When  at  His  door  denied  you'll  stand. 


''  Bright  Was  the  Guiding  Star  That  Led/' 

Harriet  Auber. 

HARRIET  AUBER  was  born  in  London,  Oc- 
tober 4,  1773.  She  led  a  quiet,  secluded  life, 
greatly  beloved  by  all  her  many  friends.  She  was  a 
member  of  the  Church  of  England.  In  1829  she 
published  a  book,  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Psalms," 
which  was  a  collection  of  poems  based  upon  the 
Psalms.  Many  of  the  best  poems  in  this  volume 
were  from  her  own  pen. 

Though  she  wrote  many  poems,  she  is  known 
chiefly  for  her  Christmas  hymn,  and  for  the  very 
beautiful  hymn,  **  Our  blest  Redeemer,  ere  He 
breathed,"  etc.  Among  her  other  hymns  that  are  in 
common  use  are,  **  Sweet  is  the  work,  O  Lord," 
"  With  joy  we  hail  the  sacred  day,"  **  Wide,  ye  heav- 
enly gates,  unfold,"  and  the  splendid  missionary 
hymn  based  on  Psalm  72,  **  Hasten,  Lord !  the 
glorious  time."     Her  Christmas  hymn  is  as  follows  : 

Bright  was  the  guiding  star  that  led, 

With  mild,  benignant  ray, 
The  Gentiles  to  the  lowly  shed, 

Where  the  Redeemer  lay. 

But,  lo  !  a  brighter,  clearer  light 

Now  points  to  His  abode ; 
It  shines,  through  sin  and  sorrow's  night. 

To  guide  us  to  our  God. 

135 


136  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Oh  !  haste  to  follow  where  it  leads, 
The  gracious  call  obey ; 

Be  rugged  wilds,  or  flowery  meads, 
The  Christian's  destined  way. 

Oh  !  gladly  tread  the  narrow  path. 
While  light  and  grace  are  given  ; 

Who  meekly  follow  Christ  on  earth 
Shall  reign  with  Him  in  heaven. 


**  Father,  Let  Me  Dedicate." 
Lawrence  Tuttiett, 

THE  author  of  this  New  Year's  hymn,  Lawrence 
Tuttiett,  was  the  son  of  John  Tuttiett,  a  sur- 
geon of  the  Royal  Navy  of  England.  He  was  born 
in  Cloy  ton,  in  Devonshire,  1825,  and  was  educated 
at  King's  College,  London.  It  was  the  intention  to 
make  him  a  physician,  but  he  chose  the  ministry, 
and  in  1848  became  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of 
England.  His  parishes  were  first  in  Warwickshire 
and  then  in  Scotland. 

Mr.  Tuttiett  wrote  several  volumes  of  hymns. 
His  hymns  are  smooth,  straightforward,  simple,  and 
earnest.  Especially  valuable  are  those  that  deal 
with  special  services  of  the  church  and  with  special 
seasons  of  the  year,  like  the  New  Year's  hymn  we 
are  to  commit  to  memory.  Among  his  best-known 
hymns  are,  "  Grant  us  Thy  light,  that  we  may 
know,"  *'  O  quickly  come,  dread  Judge  of  all,"  *'  O 
happy  Christian  child,"  and  "■  Go  forward.  Christian 
soldier."  **  Father,  let  me  dedicate,"  which  is  prob- 
ably the  favorite  among  all  his  hymns,  was  written 
in  1864,  and  is  as  follows: — 

Father,  let  me  dedicate 

All  this  year  to  Thee, 
In  whatever  worldly  state 

Thou  wilt  have  me  be. 

137 


138  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Not  from  sorrow,  pain,  or  care, 
Freedom  dare  I  claim  ; 

This  alone  shall  be  my  prayer : 
Glorify  Thy  name. 

Can  a  child  presume  to  choose 

Where  or  how  to  live  ? 
Can  a  Father's  love  refuse 

All  the  best  to  give  ? 
More  Thou  givest  every  day 

Than  the  best  can  claim, 
Nor  withholdest  aught  that  may 

Glorify  Thy  name. 

If  in  mercy  Thou  wilt  spare 

Joys  that  yet  are  mine ; 
If  on  life,  serene  and  fair, 

Brighter  rays  may  shine, — 
Let  my  glad  heart,  while  it  sings. 

Thee  in  all  proclaim. 
And  whate'er  the  future  brings, 

Glorify  Thy  name. 

If  Thou  callest  to  the  cross. 

And  its  shadow  come. 
Turning  all  my  gain  to  loss, 

Shrouding  heart  and  home, — 
Let  me  think  how  Thy  dear  Son 

To  His  glory  came, 
And  in  deepest  woe  pray  on, 

"Glorify  Thy  name." 


«Oh,  Could  I  Speak  the  Matchless  Worth/' 
Samuel  Medley, 

SAMUEL  MEDLEY  was  born  in  Cheshunt,  Eng- 
land, June  23,  1738.  His  father  was  a  school- 
teacher, and  the  lad  received  a  good  education  and 
was  then  apprenticed  to  an  oil-merchant  in  London. 
He  did  not  like  the  business,  however,  and  took 
advantage  of  a  law  which  allowed  an  apprentice,  if 
he  chose,  to  complete  his  term  of  apprenticeship  by 
serving  in  the  navy. 

Medley,  therefore,  became  a  midshipman  in  1755, 
which  was  during  the  Seven  Years'  War.  In  1759 
he  was  severely  wounded  in  a  battle  with  the  French 
off  Port  Lagos.  He  had  been  brought  up  to  have 
a  high  regard  for  religion,  but  in  the  navy  he  had 
become  dissipated.  As  he  lay  there  wounded  and 
expecting  that  amputation  of  a  limb  would  be  neces- 
sary, he  spent  nearly  an  entire  night  in  prayers  of 
penitence,  and  in  the  morning  the  surgeon,  surprised 
at  his  improved  condition,  told  him  that  the  limb 
could  be  saved. 

He  was  taken  for  recovery  to  the  house  of  his 
grandfather  in  London,  and  the  pious  old  man 
labored  earnestly  for  his  conversion.  At  last  the 
light  came  to  him  as  his  grandfather  read  to  him  a 

139 


140  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

sermon  by  Dr.  Watts  on  Isa.  42  : 6,  7.  He  left  the 
navy,  married,  and  taught  school  for  four  years. 
Then  he  was  induced  to  begin  preaching,  and  at 
last,  in  1767,  he  became  pastor  of  a  Baptist  church. 
For  twenty-seven  years  he  was  pastor  of  a  large 
church  in  Liverpool,  where  he  was  especially  suc- 
cessful in  reaching  sailors,  since  he  never  forgot  that 
he  had  been  a  sailor  himself,  and  filled  his  sermons 
with  expressions  that  reached  the  men  of  the  sea. 
Indeed,  as  Medley  lay  on  his  death-bed  his  last 
words  were  such  as  a  sailor  might  speak :  "  I  am 
now  a  poor  shattered  bark,  just  about  to  gain  the 
blissful  harbor,  and  oh,  how  sweet  will  be  the  port 
after  the  storm !  But  a  point  or  two  more  and  I 
shall  be  at  my  heavenly  Father's  house ! "  His  death 
occurred  July  17,  1799. 

Medley  wrote  many  hymns,  most  of  which  were 
printed  on  broadsides,  or  loose  sheets  of  paper,  and 
several  volumes  of  his  hymns  appeared.  Among 
the  most  famous  are  **  Father  of  mercies,  God  of 
love,"  "Jesus,  engrave  it  on  my  heart,"  "  Awake,  my 
soul,  to  joyful  lays,"  and  the  hymn  which  is  prob- 
ably the  favorite  among  all  his  hymns,  "  Oh,  could  I 
speak  the  matchless  worth."  The  following  is  the 
hymn : — 


Oh,  could  I  speak  the  matchless  worth, 
Oh,  could  I  sound  the  glories  forth, 

Which  in  my  Saviour  shine, 
I'd  soar,  and  touch  the  heavenly  strings. 
And  vie  with  Gabriel  while  he  sings 

In  notes  almost  divine. 


Oh,  Could  I  Speak  the  Matchless  Worth      141 

I'd  sing  the  precious  blood  He  spilt, 
My  ransom  from  the  dreadful  guilt 

Of  sin,  and  wrath  divine ; 
I'd  sing  His  glorious  righteousness, 
In  which  all- perfect,  heavenly  dress 

My  soul  shall  ever  shine. 

I'd  sing  the  characters  He  bears. 
And  all  the  forms  of  love  He  wears. 

Exalted  on  His  throne ; 
In  loftiest  songs  of  sweetest  praise 
I  would  to  everlasting  days 

Make  all  His  glories  known. 

Well,  the  delightful  day  will  come 
When  my  dear  Lord  will  bring  me  home. 

And  I  shall  see  His  face ; 
Then  with  my  Saviour,  Brother,  Friend, 
A  blest  eternity  I'll  spend. 

Triumphant  in  His  grace. 


"  Crown  Him  with  Many  Crowns/* 
Matthew  Bridges. 

MATTHEW  BRIDGES,  who  wrote  this  famous 
hymn,  is  one  of  a  number  of  Roman  Catholics 
whose  beautiful  hymns  have  become  favorites  with 
Protestant  worshippers  of  all  denominations.  He 
was  at  first,  however,  a  member  of  the  Church  of 
England. 

Born  in  Maldon,  Essex,  England,  July  14,  1800,  he 
began  to  publish  verses  in  1825,  and  continued  until 
several  volumes  of  poems  had  appeared,  with  some 
work  in  prose.  Most  of  his  hymns  that  have  ob- 
tained popularity  are  to  be  found  in  his  *'  Hymns  of 
the  Heart,"  which  was  published  in  1848,  the  year 
he  became  a  Catholic.  He  afterward  moved  to  the 
Province  of  Quebec,  and  passed  from  earth  on  Oc- 
tober 6,  1894. 

Mr.  Bridges's  hymns  are  marked  by  spirituality 
and  genuine  power.  Among  the  best  known  are 
"  Lo,  He  comes  with  clouds  descending,"  *'  My  God, 
accept  my  heart  this  day,"  and  **  Behold,  the  Lamb 
of  God." 

Undoubtedly  his  greatest  hymn  is  '*  Crown  Him 
with  many  crowns."  It  first  appeared  in  his  book, 
'*The  Passion  of  Jesus,"  published  in  1852.  The 
title  given  it  in  that  book  is  "The  Song  of  the 
Seraphs."     This  is  the  hymn  : — 

142 


Crown  Him  with  Many  Crowns  143 

Crown  Him  with  many  crowns, 

The  Lamb  upon  His  throne ; 
Hark  !  how  the  heavenly  anthem  drowns 

All  music  but  its  own. 
Awake,  my  soul,  and  sing 

Of  Him  who  died  for  thee, 
And  hail  Him  as  thy  matchless  King 

Through  all  eternity. 

Crown  Him  the  Lord  of  love ; 

Behold  His  hands  and  side, 
Rich  wounds,  yet  visible  above 

In  beauty  glorified. 
No  angel  in  the  sky 

Can  fully  bear  that  sight, 
But  downward  bends  his  wondering  eye 

At  mysteries  so  bright. 

Crown  Him  the  Lord  of  peace, 

Whose  power  a  sceptre  sways 
From  pole  to  pole,  that  wars  may  cease, 

And  all  be  prayer  and  praise. 
His  reign  shall  know  no  end. 

And  round  His  pierced  feet 
Fair  flowers  of  paradise  extend 

Their  fragrance  ever  sweet. 

Crown  Him  the  Lord  of  years, 

The  potentate  of  time. 
Creator  of  the  rolling  spheres. 

Ineffably  sublime. 
All  hail,  Redeemer,  hail ! 

For  Thou  hast  died  for  me ; 
Thy  praise  shall  never,  never  fail 

Throughout  eternity. 


"  O  Love  That  Wilt  Not  Let  Me  Go/' 

George  Matheson. 

GEORGE  MATHESON  was  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable men  that  have  ever  lived,  on  account 
of  the  great  work  he  did  in  spite  of  the  terrible 
handicap  of  blindness. 

He  was  born  in  Glasgow,  Scotland,  March  27, 
1842.  When  a  boy  he  had  partial  vision,  but  his 
eyesight  gradually  failed,  and  all  through  his  course 
in  Glasgow  University,  and  from  his  graduation  on, 
he  was  entirely  dependent  upon  others.  He  was, 
however,  never  totally  blind,  but  he  had  moments  of 
shadowy  eyesight. 

This  affliction  was  a  terrible  tragedy,  as  he  was 
an  eager  and  ambitious  scholar  ;  but  it  threw  him 
back  upon  God,  and  undoubtedly  deepened  his  spir- 
itual life.  His  two  sisters  were  devoted  to  him,  and 
even  learned  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew  that  they 
might  help  him  in  his  studies. 

Entering  the  university  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  he 
graduated  with  distinction  in  1861,  afterward  spend- 
ing four  more  years  in  his  theological  studies. 

Almost  immediately  upon  completing  his  theo- 
logical course  he  became  assistant  pastor  to  the 
famous  Dr.  Macduff,  in  whose  church  of  thousands 
of  members  he  had  been  brought  up.  Soon,  how- 
ever, he  was  chosen  minister  of  the  Church  of  Scot- 
land in  the  seaport  summer  resort  of  Innellan. 
Here   he    remained  for  eighteen  years,  and   many 

144 


O  Love  That  Wilt  Not  Let  Me  Go  145 

families  came  to  spend  the  summer  there  chiefly  be- 
cause of  his  pulpit  ministrations. 

At  this  time  he  was  in  the  habit  of  committing  his 
sermons  to  memory,  as  he  committed  to  memory 
the  passages  of  the  Bible  that  were  used  in  the  pul- 
pit. The  open  Bible  was  before  him,  and  he  seemed 
to  be  reading  from  it.  His  eyes  during  the  sermon 
looked  straight  at  the  audience,  and  many  went 
away  with  no  idea  that  they  had  been  listening  to  a 
blind  preacher. 

His  memory  was  so  retentive  that  after  listening 
to  two  readings  of  his  sermon,  or  whatever  he  was 
committing  to  memory,  he  could  repeat  it  perfecdy. 
One  Sunday,  however,  after  twelve  years  of  this 
practice,  when  he  was  in  the  midst  of  an  eloquent 
sermon,  his  memory  suffered  a  complete  collapse, 
the  sermon  passing  entirely  out  of  his  mind.  He 
gave  out  a  Psalm,  seated  himself,  and  on  the  con- 
clusion of  the  singing,  with  perfect  self-possession, 
told  the  audience  what  had  happened,  gave  out  a 
new  text,  and  preached  an  extempore  sermon  of 
great  power.  From  that  time  he  wrote  compara- 
tively little  of  his  sermons,  and  finally  prepared  only 
an  outline  from  which  he  preached. 

Dr.  Matheson's  second  and  concluding  pastorate 
was  taken  up  in  1886,  when  he  became  minister  of 
the  large  St.  Bernard's  Church  in  Edinburgh.  Here 
he  remained  for  thirteen  years,  great  crowds  coming 
to  hear  him,  and  his  church  grew  during  the  first 
five  years  from  1,494  to  1,703  communicants. 

During  all  his  ministerial  work  Dr.  Matheson  was 
a  most  faithful  pastor  as  well  as  a  great  preacher, 


146  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

and  was  most  assiduous  in  making  pastoral  calls. 
In  all  of  this  work  he  was  wonderfully  aided  by  his 
faithful  sister,  who  lived  with  him. 

He  spent  the  concluding  years  of  his  life  in  literary 
labors,  preaching  only  on  special  occasions,  and 
passed  away  on  August  28,  1906,  after  completing 
an  amount  of  varied  and  distinguished  work  which 
would  have  taxed  the  resources  of  any  man  having 
complete  vision. 

Dr.  Matheson  wrote  many  books,  all  of  them  char- 
acterized by  deep  spiritual  insight  and  mental  vigor. 
Among  these  the  most  remarkable  were  his  various 
books  on  Bible  characters  and  on  Christ,  and  his  de- 
votional books,  beginning  with  **  Moments  on  the 
Mount." 

Of  his  hymns,  the  one  before  us  is  by  far  the  most 
famous.  It  was  written  at  Innellan,  when  he  was 
alone  in  the  manse,  on  the  evening  of  June  6,  1882. 
At  that  time  he  was  enduring  much  mental  suffer- 
ing, and  the  hymn  was  the  beautiful  product  of  it. 

It  was  a  genuine  inspiration.  He  called  it  "  the 
quickest  bit  of  work  I  ever  did  in  my  life."  It  was 
all  written  out  in  five  minutes,  and  he  made  no  cor- 
rections or  changes  in  it  afterward.  The  appro- 
priate and  striking  tune  written  for  it  was  produced 
by  the  composer  at  the  same  rate  of  speed. 

Here  is  the  hymn  : — 

0  Love  that  wilt  not  let  me  go, 

I  rest  my  weary  soul  in  Thee  : 

1  give  Thee  back  the  life  I  owe, 
That  in  Thine  ocean  depths  its  flow 

May  richer,  fuller  be. 


O  Love  That  Wilt  Not  Let  Me  Go  147 

O  Light  that  followest  all  my  way, 
I  yield  ray  flickering  torch  to  Thee  : 

My  heart  restores  its  borrowed  ray, 

That  in  Thy  sunshine's  blaze  its  day 
May  brighter,  fairer  be. 

0  Joy  that  seekest  me  through  pain, 
1  cannot  close  my  heart  to  Thee : 

1  trace  the  rainbow  through  the  rain, 
And  feel  the  promise  is  not  vain 

That  morn  shall  tearless  be. 

0  Cross  that  liftest  up  my  head, 

I  dare  not  ask  to  fly  from  Thee : 

1  lay  in  dust  life's  glory  dead, 

And  from  the  ground  there  blossoms  red 
Life  that  shall  endless  be. 


"Jesus,  the  Very  Thought  of  Thee.'* 
Bernard  of  Clairvaux. 

THE  most  famous  hymn  of  the  Middle  Ages  was 
a  Latin  hymn  written  by  Bernard  of  Clairvaux, 
and  this  hymn  is  an  English  translation  of  a  portion 
of  that  Latin  hymn. 

Bernard  was  the  son  of  a  French  knight,  and  was 
born  in  his  father's  castle  near  Dijon  in  Burgundy, 
in  the  year  1091.  He  was  a  studious  lad,  beautiful 
in  face  and  form,  and  graceful  in  manners.  The 
rank  of  his  family  opened  before  him  a  career  of 
power.  He  was  led,  however,  partly  by  a  dream  of 
his  mother's,  to  become  a  monk. 

This  plan  was  carried  out  in  11 13,  and  he  won 
his  uncle  and  two  of  his  brothers  to  enter  the 
monastery  with  him.  In  two  years  so  great  was 
the  influence  he  gained  that  he  was  sent  forth  to 
found  a  new  monastery,  and  was  known  from  that 
time  as  the  Abbot  of  Clairvaux. 

On  the  death  of  the  Pope,  Honorius  IL,  in  1830, 
two  rival  Popes  disputed  the  throne,  and  the  French 
clergy  left  it  to  Bernard  to  decide  which  Pope  France 
should  follow.  Bernard's  decision  was  for  Inno- 
cent II.,  and  the  Abbot  of  Clairvaux  won  to  his  side 
Henry  I.  of  England,  and  Lothair,  the  Emperor  of 
Germany.     Innocent  II.,  though  unsuccessful  at  first, 

148 


Jesus,  the  Very  Thought  of  Thee  149 

finally  became  the  sole  Pope,  and  Bernard  of  course 
was  very  powerful  at  his  court. 

In  1 146  Bernard  preached  the  second  crusade, 
and  with  great  eloquence  enlisted  in  this  luckless 
enterprise  the  religious  people  of  France  and  Ger- 
many. A  vast  horde  set  forth  in  1147,  but  not  a 
tenth  of  them  ever  reached  Palestine.  Those  that 
gained  that  goal  were  easily  defeated,  and  the  ex- 
pedition failed  miserably.  Bernard  was  blamed  for 
its  failure,  and  died  not  long  afterward,  in  1153, 
at  the  age  of  sixty-three — a  weary  and  disappointed 
man. 

The  Latin  hymns  attributed  to  Bernard  are  not 
known  positively  to  be  his,  but  certainly  to  no  one 
else  could  hymns  of  so  great  beauty  and  power  be 
attributed,  and  they  coincide  in  many  of  their  ex- 
pressions and  thoughts  with  Bernard's  acknowledged 
work  in  prose. 

The  best  of  his  hymns,  ^^ Jesu  Dulcis  Memoriuy^ 
often  called  **  The  Name  of  Jesus,"  was  written 
possibly  in  1 150,  during  Bernard's  retirement  after 
the  crusade.  The  hymn  consists  of  forty-two 
stanzas  of  four  lines  each,  and  is  a  worthy  product 
of  the  Doctor  Mellifluous^  or  "  Honeyed  Teacher," 
which  was  Bernard's  popular  name. 

The  Latin  hymn  has  become  a  mine  for  beautiful 
translations.  Perhaps  the  best  is  that  by  Edward 
Caswall,  a  Catholic  clergyman  of  England,  and  the 
most  popular  translator  of  the  Latin  hymns  with  the 
exception  of  J.  M.  Neale.  I  have  chosen  the  most 
famous  portion  of  the  great  hymn.  It  was  translated 
by  Caswall  in  1848,  and  is  as  follows  : — 


150  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Jesus,  the  very  thought  of  Thee 
With  sweetness  fills  my  breast; 

But  sweeter  far  Thy  face  to  see, 
And  in  Thy  presence  rest. 

Nor  voice  can  sing,  nor  heart  can  frame, 
Nor  can  the  memory  find 

A  sweeter  sound  than  Thy  blest  name, 
O  Saviour  of  mankind. 

O  hope  of  every  contrite  heart, 

O  joy  of  all  the  meek. 
To  those  who  fall,  how  kind  Thou  art; 

How  good  to  those  who  seek  1 

But  what  to  those  who  find  ?     Ah,  this 
Nor  tongue  nor  pen  can  show ; 

The  love  of  Jesus,  what  it  is, 
None  but  His  loved  ones  know. 

Jesus,  our  only  joy  be  Thou, 
As  Thou  our  prize  shalt  be ; 

Jesus,  be  Thou  our  glory  now, 
And  through  eternity. 


**  Majestic  Sweetness  Sits  Enthroned.*' 
Samuel  Stennett. 

THIS  great  hymn  was  written  by  Samuel  Sten- 
nett, who  was  born  in  Exeter,  England,  prob- 
ably in  the  year  1727.  His  father,  a  Baptist  minister, 
moved  to  London  while  Samuel  was  a  boy.  In 
1748  his  son  became  his  assistant,  and  in  1758  Sten- 
nett succeeded  his  father  in  the  pastorate  of  the 
London  church,  a  position  which  he  held  for  the 
remainder  of  his  life. 

He  became  a  very  prominent  minister,  greatly 
honored  by  British  statesmen,  and  was  able  by 
means  of  this  influence  to  moderate  the  intolerance 
with  which  Baptists  were  regarded  in  those  days. 
King  George  III.  was  among  his  friends.  He  con- 
sistently refused  the  promotion  which  was  well 
within  his  reach,  though  he  did  accept  the  degree 
of  doctor  of  divinity,  which  was  given  him  in  1763 
from  the  University  of  Aberdeen. 

Among  his  famous  friends  was  John  Howard,  the 
great  prison  reformer,  who  was  a  member  of  his 
congregation.  Howard  wrote  from  Smyrna  at  one 
time  telling  of  his  pleasure  in  often  reviewing  his 
notes  of  Dr.  Stennett's  sermons.  Stennett  died  on 
August  24,  1795. 

Besides  several  volumes  of  sermons.  Dr.  Stennett 
wrote  thirty-eight  hymns.     Most  of  these  were  con- 

151 


152  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

tributed  to  Rippon's  famous  collection,  which  was 
published  in  1787.  Among  Stennett's  hymns  that 
are  often  sung  are  the  following :  "  Come,  every 
pious  heart,"  **  How  charming  is  the  place,"  '*  'Tis 
finished  !  so  the  Saviour  cried,"  and  "  On  Jordan's 
stormy  banks  I  stand."  His  greatest  hymn,  how- 
ever, is  the  following,  which  was  first  published  in 
1787,  as  a  hymn  of  nine  stanzas  (now  condensed  to 
six),  with  the  title,  "  Chief  among  Ten  Thousand  ; 
or,  the  Excellencies  of  Christ,"  and  with  the  Scrip- 
ture reference,  Solomon's  Song  5  :  10-16 : — 

Majestic  sweetness  sits  enthroned 

Upon  the  Saviour's  brow ; 
His  head  with  radiant  glories  crowned, 

His  lips  with  grace  o'erflow. 

No  mortal  can  with  Him  compare 

Among  the  sons  of  men ; 
Fairer  is  He  than  all  the  fair 

That  fill  the  heavenly  train. 

He  saw  me  plunged  in  deep  distress, 

He  flew  to  my  relief; 
For  me  He  bore  the  shameful  cross, 

And  carried  all  my  grief. 

To  Him  I  owe  my  life  and  breath, 

And  all  the  joys  I  have; 
He  makes  me  triumph  over  death, 

He  saves  me  from  the  grave. 

To  heaven,  the  place  of  His  abode, 

He  brings  my  weary  feet ; 
Shows  me  the  glories  of  my  God, 

And  makes  my  joy  complete. 


Majestic  Sweetness  Sits  Enthroned  153 

Since  from  His  bounty  I  receive 

Such  proofs  of  love  divine, 
Had  1  a  thousand  hearts  to  give, 

Lord,  they  should  all  be  Thine. 


"The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  RepubUc/* 
Julia  Ward  Howe. 

THIS  great  song  by  Julia  Ward  Howe  did  much 
to  inspire  the  Union  army  during  the  Civil 
War. 

The  author  was  born  on  May  27,  18 19,  in  Bowling 
Green,  at  the  lower  part  of  New  York  City.  She 
was  a  brilliant  girl,  and  as  early  as  seventeen  began 
to  write  for  the  leading  magazines  of  the  country. 
At  the  age  of  twenty-four  she  married  Dr.  Samuel 
Gridley  Howe  of  Boston,  the  head  of  Perkins 
Institute,  the  Massachusetts  School  for  the  Blind. 
Charles  Dickens  had  just  made  him  famous  by  a 
glowing  account  of  the  wonderful  work  he  had  done 
with  the  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind  Laura  Bridgman. 
Dr.  Howe  was  also  an  enthusiast  for  Grecian  liberty 
and  accomplished  much  for  that  nation,  then  in  its 
war  for  freedom. 

All  of  Mrs.  Howe's  children  are  literary  workers. 
Her  son  is  a  professor  in  Columbia  University.  Her 
three  daughters  that  are  now  living,  Laura  E. 
Richards,  Florence  Howe  Hall,  and  Maud  Howe 
Elliott,  are  well-known  writers.  Mrs.  Howe  herself 
wrote  four  volumes  of  poems,  and  several  volumes 
of  essays,  biographies,  and  travel.  She  was  the 
most  honored  woman  in  Boston,  and  probably  the 
most  honored  woman  in  America. 

154 


The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic  155 

Up  to  her  death,  in  19 10,  at  the  notable  age  of 
ninety-one,  she  retained  remarkable  vigor.  Her  bril- 
liant services  were  often  in  demand  on  public  occa- 
sions. She  still  presided  over  the  Boston  Authors' 
Club  and  the  New  England  Women's  Club.  Much 
of  her  continued  strength  and  intellectual  clearness 
she  attributed  to  her  habit  of  daily  study.  It  was  a 
great  inspiration  to  hear  her  recite,  as  I  have  heard 
her  more  than  once,  the  splendid  stanzas  of  "  The 
Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic." 

This  song  was  written  in  1861,  after  she  had 
visited  the  camp  of  the  Union  army  on  the  Potomac. 
The  soldiers  had  been  marching  by  her,  singing  the 
rough  popular  song,  ''John  Brown's  Body."  As 
they  passed  she  had  spoken  to  them,  expressing  the 
wish  that  she  might  some  time  write  words  for  the 
magnificent  swinging  melody  of  their  song.  She 
returned  to  her  lodgings  in  Washington,  worn  by 
the  long,  cold  drive,  and  slept  soundly ;  but  she 
awoke  before  daybreak  with  her  song  in  her  mind, 
and  wrote  the  stanzas  in  the  dark,  then  returning  to 
sleep. 

Here  are  the  five  stanzas  of  the  hymn,  though 
in  most  of  our  hymn-books  the  third  stanza  is 
omitted : — 


Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord ; 

He  is  trampling  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of  wrath  are 

stored ; 
He   hath   loosed   the  fateful  lightning   of  His   terrible   swift 

sword ; 

His  truth  is  marching  on. 


156  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

I  have  seen  Him  in  the  watch-fires  of  a  hundred  circling  camps, 
They  have  builded   Him  an  altar  in  the  evening  dews  and 

damps ; 
I   can  read  His  righteous  sentence  by  the  dim  and  flaring 

lamps ; 

His  day  is  marching  on. 

I  have  read  a  fiery  gospel  writ  in  burnished  rows  of  steel ; 
"As  ye  deal  with  my  contemners,  so  with  you  my  grace  shall 

deal"; 
Let  the  Hero,  born  of  woman,  crush  the  serpent  with  His  heel. 
Since  God  is  marching  on. 

He    hath   sounded  forth   the  trumpet   that   shall   never   call 

retreat ; 
He  is  sifting  out  the  hearts  of  men  before  His  judgment  seat ; 
Oh,  be  swift,  my  soul,  to  answer  Him  !  be  jubilant,  my  feet ! 
Our  God  is  marching  on. 

In  the  beauty  of  the  lilies  Christ  was  born  across  the  sea, 
With  a  glory  in  His  bosom  that  transfigures  you  and  me ; 
As  He  died  to  make  men  holy,  let  us  die  to  make  men  free, 
While  God  is  marching  on. 


"For  the  Beauty  of  the  Earth." 

Folliott  Sandford  Pierpoint, 

THIS  beautiful  summer  hymn,  full  of  the  spirit  of 
field  and  forest,  was  written  by  Folliott  Sand- 
ford  Pierpoint,  about  whose  life  I  can  learn  little.  He 
was  born  in  Bath,  England,  October  7,  1835,  and  ob- 
tained his  education  at  Queen's  College  in  Cambridge 
University,  graduating  with  classical  honors  in  187 1. 
He  published  several  volumes  of  poems,  but  his  work 
is  best  known  by  this  hymn,  which  appeared  in  1864. 
It  has  been  changed  in  many  lines,  but  the  following 
is  perhaps  the  best  version  : — 

For  the  beauty  of  the  earth, 

For  the  beauty  of  the  skies. 
For  the  love  which  from  our  birth 

Over  and  around  us  lies : 
Christ,  our  God,  to  Thee  we  raise 
This,  our  sacrifice  of  praise. 

For  the  beauty  of  each  hour 

Of  the  day  and  of  the  night, 
Hill  and  vale,  and  tree  and  flower. 

Sun  and  moon  and  stars  of  light : 
Christ,  our  God,  to  Thee  we  raise 
This,  our  sacrifice  of  praise. 

For  the  joy  of  human  love. 

Brother,  sister,  parent,  child. 
Friends  on  earth,  and  friends  above ; 

For  all  gentle  thoughts  and  mild  : 
Christ,  our  God,  to  Thee  we  raise 
This,  our  sacrifice  of  praise. 
157 


158  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

For  each  perfect  gift  of  Thine 
To  our  race  so  freely  given, 

Graces,  human  and  divine, 

Flowers  of  earth,  and  buds  of  heaven 

Christ,  our  God,  to  Thee  we  raise 

This,  our  sacrifice  of  praise. 

For  Thy  church  that  evermore 
Lifteth  holy  hands  above. 

Offering  up  on  every  shore 
Its  pure  sacrifice  of  love  : 

Christ,  our  God,  to  Thee  we  raise 

This,  our  sacrifice  of  praise. 


"Onward,  Christian,  Though  the  Region." 

Samuel  Johnso7i. 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  who  wrote  this  hymn,  was 
not  the  famous  English  essayist  and  dictionary- 
maker,  but  was  an  American  clergyman,  who  was 
born  in  Salem,  Mass.,  October  lo,  1822.  After  grad- 
uating from  Harvard  he  became  pastor  of  an  unde- 
nominational church  in  Lynn,  Mass.,  in  1853,  ^^^d 
remained  its  pastor  till  1870.  He  was  usually  asso- 
ciated with  the  Unitarians. 

Mr.  Johnson  was  a  man  of  much  learning,  and 
wrote  a  very  able  book  on  "  Oriental  Religions."  He 
edited  with  Samuel  Longfellow,  brother  of  Henry 
Wadsworth  Longfellow,  in  1846,  "  A  Book  of  Hymns," 
to  which  he  contributed  the  hymn  we  are  studying, 
and  also  another  very  beautiful  hymn,  ''  Father,  in 
Thy  mysterious  presence  kneeling."  He  was  also 
editor,  with  Mr.  Longfellow,  of  **  Hymns  of  the 
Spirit,"  for  which  he  wrote  a  hymn  that  has  come 
into  common  use,  ''  City  of  God,  how  broad  and  fair." 
Mr.  Johnson  died  at  North  Andover,  February  19, 
1882. 

The  original  title  for  our  hymn  was  **  Conflict," 
and  its  stanzas  are  as  follows :  — 

Onward,  Christian,  though  the  region 
Where  thou  art  be  drear  and  lone ; 

God  has  set  a  guardian  legion 
Very  near  thee ;  press  thou  on. 

159 


i6o  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

By  the  thorn-road,  and  none  other, 
Is  the  mount  of  vision  won  : 

Tread  it  without  shrinking,  brother  — 
Jesus  trod  it ;  press  thou  on. 

Be  this  world  the  wiser,  stronger, 
For  thy  life  of  pain  and  peace ; 

While  it  needs  thee,  oh  !  no  longer 
Pray  thou  for  thy  quick  release. 

Pray  thou,  Christian,  daily  rather 
That  thou  be  a  faithful  son ; 

By  the  prayer  of  Jesus,  "  Father, 
Not  my  will,  but  Thine,  be  done." 


"O  Golden  Day  So  Long  Desired." 

Charles  Albert  Dickinson. 

THE  author  of  this  hymn  was  one  of  the  best- 
beloved  and  most  influential  of  Christian  En- 
deavor leaders,  Rev.  Charles  Albert  Dickinson,  D.  D. 
He  was  born  in  Westminster,  Vt.,  July  4,  1849.  As 
a  part  of  his  wide-spread  Christian  work  he  after- 
ward made  his  birthplace  the  nucleus  of  a  useful 
home  for  boys  and  girls,  which  is  in  successful  oper- 
ation to-day. 

He  graduated  in  1872  from  Phillips  Academy, 
Andover,  and  went  to  Harvard  University,  from 
which  he  graduated  in  1876,  being  the  class  poet. 
In  1879  he  graduated  from  Andover  Theological 
Seminary,  and  was  married  on  July  2  of  the  same 
year.  At  once  he  became  pastor  of  the  Payson 
Memorial  Church,  Portland,  Me.,  the  church  made 
famous  by  the  revered  Edward  Payson.  He  was 
deeply  interested  in  the  progress  of  the  first  Chris- 
tian Endeavor  society  in  the  neighboring  Williston 
Church,  and  was  one  of  the  very  earliest  friends  of 
the  cause,  perhaps  the  first,  to  join  Dr.  Clark  in 
bringing  Christian  Endeavor  to  the  attention  of 
other  ministers. 

In  1882  Dr.  Dickinson  became  pastor  of  the  Kirk 
Street  Congregational  Church  of  Lowell,  Mass.,  and 

161 


i62  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

in  1888  took  up  his  great  work  in  Berkeley  Temple, 
Boston.  He  built  up  this  church  along  insti- 
tutional lines  and  made  it  a  great  hive  of  Christian 
industry  of  all  kinds.  Dr.  Dickinson  was  the 
first  exponent  of  institutional  church  work  in  Amer- 
ica. He  believed  in  it  heartily,  and  got  many 
others  to  believe  in  it  and  to  follow  his  enthusiastic 
example. 

Failing  health  sent  Dr.  Dickinson  to  California, 
where  he  served  as  pastor  of  the  First  Congrega- 
tional Church  of  Sacramento  for  two  years.  He 
died  on  January  9,  1907. 

Dr.  Dickinson  was  a  most  lovable  man,  full  of 
good  cheer  and  friendliness.  He  was  deeply  inter- 
ested in  Christian  Endeavor  from  the  start.  He 
always  attended  the  International  Conventions,  and 
he  presided  over  the  Convention  at  Cleveland,  from 
which  Dr.  Clark  was  obliged  to  be  absent  on  ac- 
count of  sickness. 

In  company  with  Dr.  Clark,  Dr.  Dickinson  made 
a  memorable  visit  to  Great  Britain,  speaking  in  the 
interests  of  Christian  Endeavor,  and  it  was  upon  his 
return  from  this  visit,  in  June,  1891,  that  he  wrote 
the  hymn  we  are  to  commit  to  memory.  The  ship 
had  for  four  days  been  in  the  grasp  of  a  terrific 
storm.  When  the  storm  ceased,  out  of  the  thank- 
fulness of  his  heart  Dr.  Dickinson  wrote  this  hymn, 
which  has  new  interest  and  meaning  when  we  re- 
member its  origin. 

The  hymn  is  one  of  great  beauty.  It  was  sung 
at  the  Boston  service  in  memory  of  Dr.  Dickinson 
on  May  12,  1907.     It  is  one  of  the  favorite  hymns 


O  Golden  Day  So  Long  Desired  163 

of  British  Endeavorers,  and  not  long  before  his  death 
Dr.  Dickinson  received  a  letter  from  that  leader  of 
musical  interests  among  British  Endeavorers,  Rev. 
Carey  Bonner  of  London,  the  secretary  of  the  British 
Sunday-School  Union.  Mr.  Bonner  says  in  this 
letter : 

''  I  do  not  know  whether  you  are  aware  of  the 
great  hold  which  your  hymn,  *  O  golden  day,'  has 
taken  upon  British  Endeavorers.  We  inserted  it  in 
our  Christian  Endeavor  hymnal,  and  at  once,  in  the 
early  convention  days,  it  became  a  favorite,  and 
now  there  are  no  verses  more  acceptable  and  more 
popular  than  those  you  penned.  Again  and  again 
I  have  heard  great  masses  of  young  people  sing 
your  hymn  with  tremendous  enthusiasm  and  power. 
The  words  embody  not  only  a  central  belief  of  Chris- 
tian Endeavor,  but  a  great  truth  for  the  church  at 
large,  a  truth  which  happily  Christ's  men  and  women 
are  more  and  more  appreciating  and  seeking  to 
carry  out." 

The  hymn,  which  is  one  of  the  finest  expressions 
of  that  sentiment  for  Christian  union  which  Chris- 
tian Endeavor  has  done  so  much  to  promote,  is  as 
follows : — 

O  golden  day  so  long  desired, 

Born  of  a  darksome  night, 
The  swinging  globe  at  last  is  fired 

By  thy  resplendent  light. 
And  hark !  like  Memnon's  morning  chord 

Is  heard  from  sea  to  sea 
This  song  :  One  Master,  Christ,  the  Lord ; 

And  brethren  all  are  we. 


164  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

The  noises  of  the  night  shall  cease, 

The  storms  no  longer  roar ; 
The  factious  foes  of  God's  own  peace 

Shall  vex  His  church  no  more. 
A  thousand  thousand  voices  sing 

In  surging  harmony 
This  song  ;   One  Master,  Saviour,  King ; 

And  brethren  all  are  we. 

Sing  on,  ye  chorus  of  the  morn, 

Your  grand  Endeavor  strain, 
Till  Christian  hearts,  estranged  and  torn, 

Blend  in  the  glad  refrain ; 
And  all  the  church,  with  all  its  pow'rs. 

In  loving  loyalty 
Shall  sing  :   One  Master,  Christ,  is  ours ; 

And  brethren  all  are  we. 


"  In  the  Field  with  Their  Flocks/* 

Frederic  William  Farrar. 

THIS  beautiful  Christmas  hymn  was  written  by  a 
very  famous  man,  Frederic  William  Farrar, 
who  was  born  in  Bombay,  India,  August  7,  183 1. 
His  father  was  at  that  time  a  missionary  to  India, 
and  afterward  he  became  rector  of  a  church  in  Eng- 
land. 

Young  Farrar  had  the  unique  experience  of  grad- 
uating from  two  colleges,  first  from  King's  College, 
London,  and  then  from  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
obtaining  distinguished  honors  in  both  of  these 
courses. 

He  became  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England, 
but  the  earlier  portion  of  his  career  was  as  an  educa- 
tor. He  was  assistant  master  of  Harrow  School,  and 
then  head  master  of  Marlborough  College. 

When  he  entered  definitely  upon  his  ministerial 
work  his  advancement  was  rapid.  First  he  became 
Canon  of  Westminster  Abbey,  then  Archdeacon  in 
1883,  and  finally,  in  1895,  he  was  made  Dean  of  Can- 
terbury. He  served  as  preacher  before  the  Univer- 
sity of  Cambridge,  as  chaplain  to  the  speaker  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  as  chaplain  to  Queen  Vic- 
toria. 

Dean  Farrar  was  a  most  brilliant  and  inspiring 
preacher.  He  was  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  great- 
est writers  of  his  day,  treating  with  a  most  unusual 

165 


i66  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

vividness  and  charm  a  great  variety  of  topics.  He 
wrote  many  books,  the  best-known  being  a  life  of 
Christ,  a  life  of  Paul,  "Seekers  after  God,"  and 
"  Christ  in  Art."  He  also  wrote  a  number  of  stirring 
stories  for  boys,  and  some  books  upon  temperance, 
of  which  cause  he  was  an  ardent  advocate.  He  died 
at  the  age  of  seventy-one,  on  March  22,  1903. 

Dean  Farrar's  hymns  are  few,  but  they  are  very 
beautiful,  and  perhaps  the  finest  of  them  all  is  this 
Christmas  hymn.     It  is  as  follows  :  — 

In  the  fields  with  their  flocks  abiding, 

They  lay  on  the  dewy  ground ; 
And  glimmering  under  the  starlight 

The  sheep  lay  white  around, 
When  the  light  of  the  Lord  streamed  o'er  them, 

And  lo  !  from  the  heaven  above, 
An  angel  leaned  from  the  glory 

And  sang  his  song  of  love  : 
He  sang,  that  first  sweet  Christmas, 

The  song  that  shall  never  cease, 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 

On  earth  good  will  and  peace. 

"  To  you  in  the  City  of  David 

A  Saviour  is  born  to-day  !  " 
And  sudden  a  host  of  the  heavenly  ones 

Flashed  forth  to  join  the  lay  ! 
O  never  hath  sweeter  message 

Thrilled  home  to  the  souls  of  men, 
And  the  heavens  themselves  had  never  heard 

A  gladder  choir  till  then. 
For  they  sang  that  Christmas  carol 

That  never  on  earth  shall  cease : 
<*  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 

On  earth  good  will  and  peace." 


In  the  Field  with  Their  Flocks  167 

And  the  shepherds  came  to  the  manger, 

And  gazed  on  the  Holy  Child ; 
And  calmly  o'er  that  rude  cradle 

The  Virgin  Mother  smiled  ; 
And  the  sky  in  the  star-lit  silence 

Seemed  full  of  the  angel  lay  : 
"  To  you  in  the  City  of  David 

A  Saviour  is  born  to-day." 
O,  they  sang — and  I  ween  that  never 

The  carol  on  earth  shall  cease : 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 

On  earth  good  will  and  peace." 


"  Rise,  My  Soul,  and  Stretch  Thy  Wings/' 
Robert  Seagrave. 

THIS  hymn  was  written  by  Rev.  Robert  Sea- 
grave,  about  whom  not  many  facts  have  come 
down  to  us.  He  was  born  in  Twyford,  Leicester- 
shire, England,  November  22,  1693.  He  obtained 
his  education  at  Cambridge  University,  became  a 
clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  grew  much 
interested  in  the  work  of  the  Wesleys  and  of  White- 
field.  From  1739  to  1750  he  was  Sunday-evening 
lecturer  at  Loriner's  Hall,  London.  He  often 
preached  in  Whitefield's  tabernacle.  His  hymns 
were  collected  in  1742,  this  among  them.  It  is  the 
only  one  of  them  all  that  is  now  in  common  use,  but 
it  is  a  very  beautiful  and  stirring  Christian  song.  It 
has  three  double  stanzas,  running  as  follows  :  — 

Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings. 

Thy  better  portion  trace ; 
Rise  from  transitory  things 

Toward  heaven,  thy  native  place : 
Sun  and  moon  and  stars  decay ; 

Time  shall  soon  this  earth  remove ; 
Rise,  my  soul,  and  haste  away 

To  seats  prepared  above. 

Rivers  to  the  ocean  run. 

Nor  stay  in  all  their  course ; 
Fire  ascending  seeks  the  sun ; 

Both  speed  them  to  their  source : 
168 


Rise,  My  Soul,  and  Stretch  Thy  Wings        169 

So  a  soul  that's  born  of  God 

Pants  to  view  His  glorious  face ; 
Upward  tends  to  His  abode, 

To  rest  in  His  embrace. 

Cease,  ye  pilgrims,  cease  to  mourn ; 

Press  onward  to  the  prize ; 
Soon  our  Saviour  will  return 

Triumphant  in  the  skies ; 
Yet  a  season — and  you  know 

Happy  entrance  will  be  given, 
All  our  sorrows  left  below, 

And  earth  exchanged  for  heaven. 


'*  Sweet  Hour  of  Prayer/* 

William  W.  Waif  or d. 

NOT  much  is  known  about  the  writer  of  this 
favorite  gospel  hymn.  He  was  a  blind  man, 
Rev.  William  W.  Walford,  an  English  clergyman. 
It  is  quite  remarkable  how  many  of  our  best  hymns 
have  been  written  by  blind  people  who  themselves 
sang  "  songs  in  the  night."  Fanny  Crosby  and 
George  Matheson  occur  to  us  at  once. 

Mr.  Walford  preached,  but  not  regularly,  and  he 
had  a  pair  of  skilful  hands  that  made  various  little 
things  of  bone  and  ivory.  He  wrote  our  hymn 
probably  about  the  year  1842,  and  recited  it  to  Rev. 
Thomas  Salmon,  a  Congregational  minister  of 
Coleshill,  England,  who  wrote  it  down  and  brought 
it  to  New  York,  where  it  was  published  in  The  New 
York  Observer.  This  seems  to  be  all  that  is  known 
about  the  hymn  or  its  author. 

Very  few  Christians  know  by  heart  the  whole  of 
this  hymn,  but  it  is  all  worth  committing  to  memory. 
Mr.  Walford's  life  must  have  been  full  of  trouble, 
and  we  find  references  to  it  in  the  hymn ;  but  we  see 
also  how  his  religion  lifted  him  above  his  trouble. 
It  will  do  the  same  for  us. 

Sweet  hour  of  prayer  1  sweet  hour  of  prayer  ! 
That  calls  me  from  a  world  of  care, 
And  bids  me  at  my  Father's  throne 
Make  all  my  wants  and  wishes  known  : 
170 


Sweet  Hour  of  Prayer  171 

In  seasons  of  distress  and  grief 
My  soul  has  often  found  relief, 
And  oft  escaped  the  tempter's  snare, 
By  thy  return,  sweet  hour  of  prayer  ! 

Sweet  hour  of  prayer  !  sweet  hour  of  prayer  ! 
Thy  wings  shall  my  petition  bear 
To  Him  whose  truth  and  faithfulness 
Engage  the  waiting  soul  to  bless : 
And  since  He  bids  me  seek  His  face, 
Believe  His  word,  and  trust  His  grace, 
I'll  cast  on  Him  my  every  care, 
And  wait  for  thee,  sweet  hour  of  prayer  ! 

Sweet  hour  of  prayer  !  sweet  hour  of  prayer 

May  1  thy  consolation  share. 

Till,  from  Mount  Pisgah's  lofty  height, 

I  view  my  home  and  take  my  flight ; 

This  robe  of  flesh  I'll  drop,  and  rise 

To  seize  the  everlasting  prize  ; 

And  shout,  while  passing  through  the  air, 

Farewell,  farewell,  sweet  hour  of  prayer  ! 


"  The  Day  of  Resurrection/* 

Si.  John  of  Damascus. 

ST.  JOHN  of  Damascus  was  next  to  the  last  of 
the  series  of  great  religious  leaders  belonging 
to  the  Eastern  or  Greek  Catholic  Church.  He  was 
the  greatest  of  the  poets  produced  by  that  church. 
The  Arabs  called  him  Ibn  Mansur,  which  probably 
means  **  Son  of  a  Conqueror." 

He  was  born  in  Damascus  early  in  the  eighth  cen- 
tury, and  held  some  office  under  the  Caliph.  Late 
in  life  he  resigned  this  office,  became  a  priest  of  the 
Jerusalem  church,  and  ended  his  life  in  a  convent 
near  Jerusalem — the  convent  of  St.  Sabas.  He  died 
about  A.  D.  780,  either  in  his  eighty-fourth  or  in  his 
one-hundredth  year. 

St.  John  of  Damascus  wrote  important  prose 
works  on  theology,  and  many  great  poems  from 
which  the  Greek  Church  has  taken  some  of  its  best- 
loved  hymns.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  writing 
about  the  birth  and  the  resurrection  of  Christ.  John 
Mason  Neale,  who  translated  so  finely  many  of  the 
great  Greek  and  Latin  hymns,  has  translated  two 
written  by  St.  John  of  Damascus — **  Come,  ye  faith- 
ful, raise  the  strain,"  and  the  hymn  before  us.  His 
translation — which  is  only  a  part  of  a  much  longer 
poem — is  as  follows  : — 

172 


The  Day  of  Resurrection  173 

The  day  of  resurrection, 

Earth,  tell  it  out  abroad  : 
The  Passover  of  gladness, 

The  Passover  of  God. 
From  death  to  life  eternal, 

From  earth  unto  the  sky. 
Our  Christ  hath  brought  us  over 

With  hymns  of  victory. 

Our  hearts  be  pure  from  evil, 

That  we  may  see  aright 
The  Lord  in  rays  eternal 

Of  resurrection  light ; 
And,  listening  to  His  accents. 

May  hear,  so  calm  and  plain. 
His  own  *' All  hail  !  "  and,  hearing, 

May  raise  the  victor-strain. 

Now  let  the  heavens  be  joyful. 

And  earth  her  song  begin. 
The  round  world  keep  high  triumph, 

And  all  that  is  therein ; 
Let  all  things  seen  and  unseen 

Their  notes  of  gladness  blend. 
For  Christ  the  Lord  is  risen, 

Our  Joy  that  hath  no  end. 

Dr.  Neale  admired  this  hymn  greatly,  and  he 
wrote  the  following  vivid  account  of  the  way  in 
which  it  used  to  be  sung  by  Greek  Christians : 

"  As  midnight  approached,  the  archbishop,  with 
his  priests,  accompanied  by  the  king  and  queen,  left 
the  church  and  stationed  themselves  on  the  platform, 
which  was  raised  considerably  from  the  ground,  so 
that  they  were  distinctly  seen  by  the  people.  Every 
one  now  remained  in  breathless  expectation,  holding 


174  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

an  unlighted  taper  in  readiness  when  the  glad  mo- 
ment should  arrive,  while  the  priests  still  continued 
murmuring  their  melancholy  chant  in  a  low  half 
whisper.  Suddenly  a  single  report  of  a  cannon  an- 
nounced that  twelve  o'clock  had  struck  and  that 
Easter  Day  had  begun ;  then  the  old  archbishop, 
elevating  the  cross,  exclaimed  in  a  loud,  exulting 
tone,  *  Christos  aneste  !  '  *  Christ  is  risen  ! '  and  in- 
stantly every  single  individual  of  all  that  host  took 
up  the  cry,  and  the  vast  multitude  broke  through 
and  dispelled  forever  the  intense  and  mournful 
silence  which  they  had  maintained  so  long  with  one 
spontaneous  shout  of  indescribable  joy  and  triumph, 
*  Christ  is  risen ! '  *  Christ  is  risen  I '  At  the  same 
moment  the  oppressive  darkness  was  succeeded  by 
a  blaze  of  light  from  thousands  of  tapers  which,  com- 
municating to  one  from  another,  seemed  to  send 
streams  of  fire  in  all  directions,  rendering  the  minut- 
est objects  distinctly  visible,  and  casting  the  most 
vivid  glow  on  the  expressive  faces,  full  of  exultation, 
of  the  rejoicing  crowd ;  bands  of  music  struck  up 
their  gayest  strains ;  the  roll  of  a  drum  through  the 
town,  and  further  on  the  pealing  of  the  cannon,  an- 
nounced far  and  near  these  *  glad  tidings  of  great 
joy ' ;  while  from  hill  and  plain,  from  the  seashore 
and  the  far  olive  grove,  rocket  after  rocket,  ascend- 
ing to  the  clear  sky,  answered  back  with  its  mute 
eloquence  that  Christ  is  risen  indeed,  and  told  of 
other  tongues  that  were  repeating  those  blessed 
words,  and  other  hearts  that  leaped  for  joy ;  every- 
where men  clasped  each  other's  hands,  and  con- 
gratulated one  another  and  embraced  with  counte- 


The  Day  of  Resurrection  175 

nances  beaming  with  delight,  as  though  to  each  one 
separately  some  wonderful  happiness  had  been  pro- 
claimed ;  and  so,  in  truth,  it  was ;  and  all  the  while, 
rising  above  the  mingling  of  many  sounds,  each  one 
of  which  was  a  sound  of  gladness,  the  aged  priests 
were  distinctly  heard  chanting  forth  the  glorious  old 
hymn  of  victory,  intoned  loud  and  clear  to  tell  the 
world  how  'Christ  is  risen  from  the  dead,'  having 
trampled  death  beneath  His  feet,  and  henceforth 
they  that  are  in  the  tombs  have  everlasting  life." 


"  While  Thee  I  Seek,  Protecting  Power." 

Helen  Maria  Williajns. 

HELEN  MARIA  WILLIAMS,  who  wrote  this 
hymn,  was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  women 
of  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  an  officer  in  the  British  army, 
and  was  born  in  1762,  some  say  in  London,  but 
probably  at  or  near  Berwick-on-Tweed,  in  the  north 
of  England. 

Obtaining  a  good  education,  Miss  Williams  began 
to  write  poetry  very  early,  and  published  her  first 
book  at  the  age  of  twenty.  It  was  followed  by 
many  others,  fiction,  science,  translation,  poetry,  and 
especially  books  dealing  with  the  French  revolution. 

Following  her  sister,  who  married  a  French  Prot- 
estant, Miss  Williams  spent  most  of  her  life  in  Paris. 
She  sympathized  strongly  with  the  republicans,  and 
was  so  outspoken  that  she  was  imprisoned  by 
Robespierre,  and  was  not  released  until  his  death. 
She  herself  died  in  1827. 

Miss  Williams,  in  spite  of  her  intense  interest  in 
the  politics  of  that  tumultuous  period,  was  a  woman 
of  deep  spiritual  feeling,  as  we  may  well  understand 
from  our  hymn,  which  is  the  only  piece,  out  of  all 
her  many  writings,  to  survive  in  common  interest. 
It  was  written  in  1786,  and  was  perhaps  prophetic  of 
**  the  gathering  storm "   of  the  French  revolution, 

176 


While  Thee  I  Seek,  Protecting  Power        177 

during  which  she  must  often  have  been  helped  by 
this  very  hymn  to  seek,  in  peril  and  prison,  the 
Protecting  Power.     The  hymn  is  as  follows  : — 

While  Thee  I  seek,  protecting  Power  I 

Be  my  vain  wishes  stilled  ; 
And  may  this  consecrated  hour 

With  better  hopes  be  filled. 
Thy  love  the  power  of  thought  bestowed ; 

To  Thee  my  thoughts  would  soar ; 
Thy  mercy  o'er  my  life  has  flowed ; 

That  mercy  I  adore. 

In  each  event  of  life  how  clear 

Thy  ruling  hand  I  see  ! 
Each  blessing  to  my  soul  more  dear 

Because  conferred  by  Thee. 
In  every  joy  that  crowns  my  days, 

In  every  pain  I  bear, 
My  heart  shall  find  delight  in  praise 

Or  seek  relief  in  prayer. 

When  gladness  wings  my  favored  hour, 

Thy  love  my  thoughts  shall  fill ; 
Resigned,  when  storms  of  sorrow  lower, 

My  soul  shall  meet  Thy  will. 
My  lifted  eye,  without  a  tear, 

The  gathering  storm  shall  see ; 
My  steadfast  heart  shall  know  no  fear ; 

That  heart  shall  rest  on  Thee. 


*'I  Love  Thy  Kingdom,  Lord!" 

Timothy  Dwight. 

THE  leader  of  early  American  hymn- writers  was 
Rev.  Timothy  Dwight,  D.  D.  He  was  born  in 
Northampton,  Mass.,  May  14,  1752,  graduated  from 
Yale  in  1769  at  the  early  age  of  seventeen,  taught 
there  as  a  tutor  for  six  years,  became  an  army 
chaplain  during  the  Revolution,  and  then  a  Con- 
necticut pastor  and  academy  teacher,  and  finally,  in 
I795>  was  made  president  of  Yale  College,  a  post 
which  he  held  with  great  honor.  When  he  ceased 
to  be  a  tutor  there,  the  students  had  unanimously 
voted  for  him  as  president.  He  was  a  notable 
scholar,  and  did  much  for  the  reputation  of  the  new 
republic  in  Europe.  His  literary  work  was  done 
with  an  amanuensis,  since  his  sight  failed  him  on 
account  of  smallpox,  with  which,  after  the  fashion  of 
those  days  before  vaccination,  he  was  deliberately 
inoculated.  He  was  always  a  great  suiTerer  from 
pain  in  his  eyes  and  the  front  of  his  brain,  and 
seldom  could  read  consecutively  more  than  fifteen 
minutes  a  day — often  not  at  all.  He  died  January 
II,  1817. 

Dr.  Dwight  wrote  33  hymns,  the  one  we  are  to 
commit  to  memory  being  by  far  the  best  and  the 
most  popular.  It  was  published  in  1800,  as  part  of 
an  edition  of  Watts's  Psalms,  which  he  edited  at  the 

178 


I  Love  Thy  Kingdom,  Lord  179 

request  of  the  General  Association  of  Connecticut. 
The  thought  of  the  hymn  is  that  of  Psalm  137. 
There  were  originally  eight  stanzas,  but  the  follow- 
ing five  are  all  that  are  now  sung. 

I  love  Thy  kingdom,  Lord  I 

The  house  of  Thine  abode. 
The  church  our  blest  Redeemer  saved 

With  His  own  precious  blood. 

I  love  Thy  church,  O  God ! 

Her  walls  before  Thee  stand. 
Dear  as  the  apple  of  Thine  eye. 

And  graven  on  Thy  hand. 

For  her  my  tears  shall  fall. 

For  her  my  prayers  ascend ; 
To  her  my  cares  and  toils  be  given. 

Till  toils  and  cares  shall  end. 

Beyond  my  highest  joy 

I  prize  her  heavenly  ways. 
Her  sweet  communion,  solemn  vows. 

Her  hymns  of  love  and  praise, 

Sure  as  Thy  truth  shall  last, 

To  Zion  shall  be  given 
The  brightest  glories  earth  can  yield. 

And  brighter  bliss  of  heaven. 


"Hail!  Columbia." 

Joseph  Hopkinson, 

EVERY  American  should  commit  to  memory  this 
patriotic  song,  which  many  consider  to  be  our 
national  anthem.  It  was  written  by  Judge  Joseph 
Hopkinson,  a  leading  American  of  the  early  days 
of  the  United  States.  He  was  born  in  Philadelphia, 
November  12,  1770,  and  his  boyhood  was  thrilled  by 
the  news  of  the  Revolutionary  War  and  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  new  nation.  His  father,  Francis 
Hopkinson,  was  also  a  famous  lawyer,  and  was  one 
of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
He  wrote  much,  in  prose  and  verse. 

His  distinguished  son  was  graduated  from  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania,  became  a  famous  law- 
yer, a  member  of  Congress,  and  a  United  States 
District  judge,  as  his  father  and  grandfather  had 
been  before  him.  He  died  in  Philadelphia,  Janu- 
ary 15,  1842. 

**Hail!  Columbia"  was  written  in  1798.  At  that 
time  there  was  intense  feeling  throughout  America 
with  regard  to  the  conduct  of  France  toward  this 
country,  and  there  was  prospect  of  war  with  the 
former  friend  of  the  United  States.  At  that  time 
Mr.  Fox,  a  young  singer  in  a  Philadelphia  theatre, 
was  to  have  a  benefit,  and  there  was  no  indication 
of  a  full  house.     To  arouse  interest  he  got  Judge 

180 


Hail !    Columbia  i8i 


Hopkinson  to  write  a  patriotic  song  to  the  music 
of  **The  President's  March."  The  song  was  "  Haill 
Columbia,"  which  is  still  sung  to  the  original  tune. 
It  was  immediately  successful.  Mr.  Fox  was  recalled 
nine  times  to  sing  the  song,  and  at  the  last  time  the 
whole  audience  rose  and  sung  the  chorus.  On  the 
following  night,  April  30,  President  John  Adams 
and  his  wife  were  present,  and  the  singer  was  called 
back  again  and  again.  All  the  places  of  public 
assembly  took  up  the  song,  and  it  was  everywhere 
sung  in  the  streets.  One  night  a  crowd  gathered  in 
front  of  Judge  Hopkinson's  house,  and  five  hundred 
voices  suddenly  broke  out  with  '*  Hail !  Columbia." 

The  song  is  largely  a  glorification  of  George  Wash- 
ington, who,  in  that  emergency,  had  been  called  from 
private  life  once  more  to  take  command  of  the  Amer- 
ican army.     The  last  stanza  refers  to  this. 


Hail,  Columbia  !  happy  land  ! 
Hail,  ye  heroes  !  heaven-born  band  ! 

Who  fought  and  bled  in  Freedom's  cause, 

Who  fought  and  bled  in  Freedom's  cause, 
And  when  the  storm  of  war  was  gone, 
Enjoyed  the  peace  your  valor  won. 

Let  independence  be  our  boast, 

Ever  mindful  what  it  cost ; 

Ever  grateful  for  the  prize, 

Let  its  altar  reach  the  skies. 


Firm,  united  let  us  be, 
Rallying  round  our  Liberty ; 
As  a  band  of  brothers  joined, 
Peace  and  safety  we  shall  find. 


i82  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Immortal  patriots  !  rise  once  more : 
Defend  your  rights,  defend  your  shore  : 
Let  no  rude  foe,  with  impious  hand, 
Let  no  rude  foe,  with  impious  hand. 
Invade  the  shrine  where  sacred  lies 
Of  toil  and  blood  the  well-earned  prize. 
While  offering  peace  sincere  and  just 
In  heaven  we  place  a  manly  trust, 
That  truth  and  justice  will  prevail, 
And  every  scheme  of  bondage  fail. 

Firm,  united,  etc. 

Sound,  sound,  the  trump  of  Fame  ! 

Let  Washington's  great  name 

Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applause. 
Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applause; 

Let  every  clime  to  Freedom  dear 

Listen  with  a  joyful  ear. 

With  equal  skill,  and  godlike  power, 
He  governed  in  the  fearful  hour 
Of  horrid  war ;  or  guides,  with  ease, 
The  happier  times  of  honest  peace. 

Firm,  united,  etc. 

Behold  the  chief  who  now  commands, 
Once  more  to  serve  his  country,  stands  — 
The  rock  on  which  the  storm  will  beat. 
The  rock  on  which  the  storm  will  beat ; 
But,  armed  in  virtue  firm  and  true, 
His  hopes  are  fixed  on  heaven  and  you. 
When  hope  was  sinking  in  dismay. 
And  glooms  obscured  Columbia's  day, 
His  steady  mind,  from  changes  free, 
Resolved  on  death  or  liberty. 


Hail !    Columbia  183 


Firm,  united  let  us  be, 
Rallying  round  our  Liberty ; 
•As  a  band  of  brothers  joined, 
Peace  and  safety  we  shall  find. 


"The  Sands  of  Time  Are  Sinking/' 
Annie  Ross  Cousin, 

THIS  beautiful  hymn  was  written  by  Mrs.  Annie 
Ross  Cousin,  a  Scotch  lady,  the  wife  of  Rev. 
William  Cousin,  minister  of  the  Free  Church  of 
Melrose,  Scotland.  The  hymn  was  first  published 
in  1857. 

It  is  often  called  "  Rutherford's  Hymn,"  because 
it  represents  the  thoughts  and  even  quotes  the  very 
words  of  the  great  Scottish  scholar,  preacher,  re- 
former, and  martyr,  Samuel  Rutherford.  Ruther- 
ford was  born  in  1600  and  died  in  prison  in  1661. 
He  was  a  man  of  profound  piety  and  great  learning, 
highly  honored  among  the  Presbyterians.  During 
Cromwell's  time  he  was  happy  in  the  success  of  the 
principles  for  which  he  had  pleaded  courageously 
for  many  years ;  but  when  Charles  the  Second  came 
to  the  throne  his  enemies  had  their  revenge.  He 
was  indicted  for  treason,  and  would  have  been  ex- 
ecuted if  he  had  not  died  in  prison. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  last  day  of  his  life 
this  sainted  hero,  in  answer  to  the  question,  "  What 
think  ye  now  of  Christ?"  made  the  following  an- 
swer, which  furnished  the  refrain  of  our  hymn  :  "Oh, 
that  all  my  brethren  in  the  land  may  know  what  a 
Master  I  have  served,  and  what  peace  I  have  this 

184 


The  Sands  of  Time  Are  Sinking  185 

day !  I  shall  sleep  in  Christ,  and  when  I  awake,  I 
shall  be  satisfied  with  His  likeness.  This  night  shall 
close  the  door,  and  put  my  anchor  within  the  veil ; 
and  I  shall  go  away  in  a  sleep  by  five  of  the  clock 
in  the  morning.  Glory  1  glory  to  my  Creator  and 
my  Redeemer  forever  I  I  shall  live  and  adore  Him. 
Oh,  for  arms  to  embrace  Him  I  Oh,  for  a  well- 
tuned  harp  I  Glory  !  glory  dwelleth  in  Immanuel's 
land  1  "  He  died  exactly  at  the  time  he  had  fore- 
told. 

Mrs.  Cousin  wrote  many  beautiful  hymns  and 
other  poems,  but  this  is  by  far  the  best  known.  It 
is  really  a  poem,  of  19  double  stanzas,  152  lines,  and 
only  a  small  portion  of  it  is  ever  sung.  We  give  the 
part  generally  used  as  a  hymn : — 


The  sands  of  time  are  sinking ; 

The  dawn  of  heaven  breaks ; 
The  summer  morn  I've  sighed  for. 

The  fair,  sweet  morn,  awakes. 
Dark,  dark  hath  been  the  midnight ; 

But  dayspring  is  at  hand. 
And  glory — glory  dwelleth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

O  Christ  !     He  is  the  fountain. 

The  deep,  sweet  well  of  love  -, 
The  streams  on  earth  I've  tasted. 

More  deep  I'll  drink  above ; 
There  to  an  ocean  fulness 

His  mercy  doth  expand. 
And  glory — glory  dwelleth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 


i86  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

With  mercy  and  with  judgment 

My  web  of  time  He  wove, 
And  aye  the  dews  of  sorrow 

Were  lustred  by  His  love ; 
I'll  bless  the  hand  that  guided, 

I'll  bless  the  heart  that  planned. 
When  throned  where  glory  dwelleth, 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

The  bride  eyes  not  her  garment. 

But  her  dear  bridegroom's  face; 
I  will  not  gaze  at  glory, 

But  on  my  King  of  Grace  — 
Not  at  the  crown  He  giveth, 

But  on  His  pierced  hand  — 
The  Lamb  is  all  the  glory 

Of  Immanuel's  land. 


"  There  Are  Lonely  Hearts  to  Cherish." 
George  Cooper. 

GEORGE  COOPER,  who  wrote  this  helpful 
hymn,  was  born  in  New  York  City,  May  14, 
1840.  He  has  written  many  poems  and  magazine 
articles,  and  not  a  few  of  his  poems  have  become 
popular  songs.  He  has  written  largely  for  children. 
This  hymn,  which  is  his  best-known  song,  was 
written  in  1870. 


There  are  lonely  hearts  to  cherish 

While  the  days  are  going  by ; 
There  are  weary  souls  who  perish 

While  the  days  are  going  by ; 
If  a  smile  we  can  renew, 
As  our  journey  we  pursue, 
O,  the  good  we  all  may  do 
While  the  days  are  going  by. 


There's  no  time  for  idle  scorning 
While  the  days  are  going  by ; 

Let  your  face  be  like  the  morning 
While  the  days  are  going  by ; 

O,  the  world  is  full  of  sighs, 

Full  of  sad  and  weeping  eyes ; 

Help  your  fallen  brother  rise 
While  the  days  are  going  by. 

187 


i88  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

All  the  loving  links  that  bind  us 

While  the  days  are  going  by 
One  by  one  we  leave  behind  us 
While  the  days  are  going  by ; 
But  the  seeds  of  good  we  sow 
Both  in  shade  and  shine  will  grow, 
And  will  keep  our  hearts  aglow 
While  the  days  are  going  by. 


"What  Shall  the  Harvest  Be?'' 

Emily  Sullivan  Oakey. 

THIS  beautiful  and  beloved  hymn  was  written  in 
1850  by  Mrs.  Emily  Sullivan  Oakey,  who  wrote 
much  for  the  newspapers  and  magazines,  but  who  is 
best  known  by  this  hymn.  Mrs.  Oakey  was  a  teacher 
of  languages  and  English  literature,  and  taught  all  her 
life  in  the  school  from  which  she  was  graduated,  the 
Albany  (N.  Y.)  Female  Academy.  She  was  born  in 
Albany  on  October  8,  1829,  and  died  on  May  11, 
1883.  She  was  frail  in  body,  and  it  is  said  that  dur- 
ing all  her  life  she  never  enjoyed  a  day  of  good 
health. 

This  was  the  hymn  that  saved  W.  O.  Lattimore,  a 
man  who  had  learned  to  drink  in  the  army,  and  who 
found  himself  in  the  winter  of  1876  a  miserable  drunk- 
ard, separated  from  his  wife  and  child,  stumbling  by 
mistake,  half  intoxicated,  into  Moody's  Tabernacle 
in  Chicago.  When  he  discovered  his  mistake  he  was 
about  to  go  out,  but  Mr.  Sankey's  voice  held  him. 
He  was  singing  this  hymn  : — 

Sowing  the  seed  of  a  lingering  pain, 
Sowing  the  seed  of  a  maddened  brain. 
Sowing  the  seed  of  a  tarnished  name, 
Sowing  the  seed  of  eternal  shame  : 
O,  what  shall  the  harvest  be  ? 

Those  words  followed  Lattimore  even  to  the  sa- 

189 


igo  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

loon,  brought  him  back  to  the  Tabernacle,  and  finally 
led  to  his  conversion.  He  was  reunited  to  his  family, 
became  an  efficient  laborer  in  the  Moody  meetings, 
was  persuaded  to  study  for  the  ministry,  and  served 
for  twenty  years  as  the  honored  and  useful  pastor  of 
a  large  church  in  Evanston,  111. 

Mrs.  Oakey's  hymn  may  have  been  suggested  by 
the  parable  of  the  sower  or  that  of  the  tares,  but  more 
likely  the  writer  had  in  mind  Gal.  6:7:  *'  What- 
soever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." 

Here  is  the  hymn :  — 

Sowing  the  seed  by  the  daylight  fair, 
Sowing  the  seed  by  the  noonday  glare. 
Sowing  the  seed  by  the  fading  light, 
Sowing  the  seed  in  the  solemn  night : 
O,  what  shall  the  harvest  be  ? 

Chorus  : 

Sown  in  the  darkness  or  sown  in  the  light, 
Sown  in  our  weakness  or  sown  in  our  might. 
Gathered  in  time  or  eternity, 
Sure,  ah,  sure  will  the  harvest  be. 

Sowing  the  seed  by  the  wayside  high. 
Sowing  the  seed  on  the  rocks  to  die. 
Sowing  the  seed  where  the  thorns  will  spoil, 
Sowing  the  seed  in  the  fertile  soil : 
O,  what  shall  the  harvest  be  ? 

Sowing  the  seed  of  a  lingering  pain, 
Sowing  the  seed  of  a  maddened  brain. 
Sowing  the  seed  of  a  tarnished  name. 
Sowing  the  seed  of  eternal  shame  : 
O,  what  shall  the  harvest  be  ? 


What  Shall  the  Harvest  Be  ?  igi 

Sowing  the  seed  with  an  aching  heart, 
Sowing  the  seed  while  the  tear-drops  start, 
Sowing  in  hope  till  the  reapers  come 
Gladly  to  gather  the  harvest  home : 
O,  what  shall  the  harvest  be  ? 


"  The  God  of  Abraham  Praise." 
Thomas  Olivers. 

THE  author  of  this  Thanksgiving  hymn  was  Rev. 
Thomas  Olivers,  who  was  born  in  Tregynon, 
Montgomeryshire,  Wales,  in  1725.  His  father  and 
mother  died  when  he  was  a  young  boy,  and  one  per- 
son after  another  took  charge  of  him,  giving  him  lit- 
tle care.  He  grew  up  ignorant,  irreligious,  bad-tem- 
pered, and  wicked.  He  became  a  shoemaker's  ap- 
prentice. Making  low  acquaintances,  he  was  driven 
from  his  native  town  at  the  age  of  18,  and  wandered 
from  place  to  place. 

At  last  he  came  to  Bristol,  w^here  the  famous  evan- 
gelist, George  Whitefield,  was  preaching,  and  win- 
ning converts  by  the  thousand.  One  day  he 
preached  from  Zech.  3:2,  "  Is  not  this  a  brand 
plucked  from  the  fire?"  The  godless  cobbler  heard 
him,  and,  as  he  said,  **  The  world  was  all  changed 
for  Tom  Olivers."  From  that  time  he  devoted  him- 
self, in  his  own  words,  to  '*  getting  and  doing  good." 
He  fasted  long,  and  prayed  by  the  hour,  till  his  knees 
grew  stiff  and  he  was  lame  for  some  time. 

Whitefield  and  his  associates  did  not  recognize  the 
ability  of  Olivers,  but  on  October  i,  1753,  he  met 
John  Wesley,  who  made  him  a  close  associate  in  his 
ministry.  In  his  preaching  tours  in  England  and 
Ireland  he  traveled  100,000  miles.  He  was  worn  by 
poverty,  cares,  and  persecution,  but  was  upheld  by 

192 


The  God  of  Abraham  Praise  193 

a  fervent  faith.  He  thought  he  had  visions  of  Christ, 
and  rejoiced  in  them.  He  died  in  London  in  March, 
1799,  and  was  buried  in  Wesley's  tomb. 

OUvers  wrote  other  hymns,  among  them  *'  Come, 
immortal  King  of  glory  "  and  **  O  Thou  God  of  my 
salvation "  ;  but  the  hymn  we  have  chosen  is  the 
most  famous.  Originally  it  contained  twelve  eight- 
line  stanzas,  but  now  only  three  of  them  are  gener- 
ally sung. 

The  inspiration  for  the  hymn  came  from  a  Jew, 
Meyer  Lyon,  chorister  of  the  Great  Synagogue  in 
London.  Olivers  heard  him  sing  the  Hebrew  creed 
in  thirteen  articles,  the  Yigdal  or  Doxology,  written 
a  thousand  years  ago,  it  is  said,  by  Daniel  ben  Judah, 
and  still  sung  every  Friday  night  in  all  synagogues 
in  the  world.  For  this  tune,  called  '*  Leoni "  out  of 
compliment  to  Meyer  Lyon,  Olivers  wrote  his  splen- 
did words. 

The  hymn  has  had  a  notable  history.  Mission- 
aries have  admired  it  greatly,  among  them  the  fa- 
mous Henry  Martyn,  who  was  much  moved  by  it  on 
his  voyage  to  India,  and  strove  to  make  its  senti- 
ments his  own.  The  hymn  was  a  favorite  of  the 
poet  Montgomery.  The  great  commentator.  Dr. 
Adam  Clark,  taught  the  hymn  to  all  his  children ; 
one  of  them  is  known  to  have  remembered  it  at  the 
age  of  eighty. 

This  hymn,  which  had,  in  a  sense,  a  Hebrew  origin, 
is  beautifully  connected  with  a  young  Jewess,  the 
daughter  of  the  chief  of  a  synagogue,  who  became  a 
Christian  and  was  baptized.  Her  enraged  father 
vowed  to  kill   her,  and  she  took  refuge  in  the  home 


194  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

of  the  clergyman  who  baptized  her.  There,  weep- 
ing, her  eyes  raised  to  heaven,  she  sung  this  hymn 
of  praise  to  the  God  of  Abraham,  made  manifest  in 
Jesus  Christ  her  Saviour. 

The  hymn,  as  it  is  now  commonly  sung,  is  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise. 

Who  reigns  enthroned  above, 
Ancient  of  everlasting  days, 

And  God  of  love  ! 
Jehovah  !  great  1  am  ! 

By  earth  and  heaven  confessed ; 
I  bow  and  bless  the  sacred  name, 

Forever  blest ! 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise ! 

At  whose  supreme  command 
From  earth  I  rise,  and  seek  the  joys 

At  His  right  hand ; 
I  all  on  earth  forsake, 

Its  wisdom,  fame,  and  power, 
And  Him  my  only  portion  make, 

My  shield  and  tower. 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise  ! 

Whose  all-sufficient  grace 
Shall  guide  me  all  my  happy  days 

In  all  my  ways  : 
He  calls  a  worm  His  friend  ! 

He  calls  Himself  my  God  ! 
And  He  shall  save  me  to  the  end 

Through  Jesus'  blood  ! 


"There's  a  Song  in  the  Air/' 
Josiah  Gilbert  Holland. 

THIS  beautiful  Christmas  hymn  was  written  by 
the  well-known  poet  and  novelist,  Josiah  Gilbert 
Holland.  He  was  born  in  Belchertown,  Mass.,  July 
24,  18 19,  and  died  in  New  York  on  October  12,  1881. 
Mr.  Holland  became  first  a  physician,  then  a  teacher, 
and  finally  found  his  life-work  as  an  editor.  Until 
1866  he  was  a  member  of  the  editorial  staff  of  that  ad- 
mirable newspaper,  the  Springfield  (Mass.)  Repub- 
lican, In  the  columns  of  the  Republican  appeared 
Dr.  Holland's  "  Timothy  Titcomb  Letters,"  whose 
quaint  humor  and  sturdy  common  sense  won  for 
them  universal  favor.  They  appeared  in  book  form 
in  1858,  and  several  volumes  of  similar  writing  fol- 
lowed them. 

Dr.  Holland  planned  Scribner^s  Magazine^  and 
edited  that  famous  magazine  from  the  beginning  till 
his  death.  In  it  appeared  some  of  his  novels,  the 
most  popular  of  these  being  that  strong  and  delight- 
ful story,  "  Arthur  Bonnicastle,"  which  still  retains 
its  popularity. 

Dr.  Holland  wrote  four  or  five  volumes  of  poems, 
the  most  popular  being  **  Bitter  Sweet,"  a  beautiful 
idyl  of  home  life.  Other  long  poems  of  similar 
theme  are  *'  Kathrina "  and  "  The  Mistress  of  the 
Manse." 

195 


196  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Dr.  Holland's  Christmas  poem,  which  immediately 
became  a  great  Sunday-school  favorite,  is  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

There's  a  song  in  the  air  ! 

There's  a  star  in  the  sky  ! 

There's  a  mother's  deep  prayer 

And  a  baby's  low  cry  ! 
And  the  star  rains  its  fire  while  the  Beautiful  sing, 
For  the  manger  of  Bethlehem  cradles  a  king. 

There's  a  tumult  of  joy 

O'er  the  wonderful  birth, 

For  the  virgin's  sweet  boy 

Is  the  Lord  of  the  earth. 
Ay  !  the  star  rains  its  fire  and  the  Beautiful  sing. 
For  the  manger  of  Bethlehem  cradles  a  king. 

In  the  light  of  that  star 

Lie  the  ages  impearled  ; 

And  that  song  from  afar 

Has  swept  over  the  world. 
Every  hearth  is  aflame,  and  the  Beautiful  sing 
In  the  homes  of  the  nations  that  Jesus  is  King. 

We  rejoice  in  the  light, 

And  we  echo  the  song 

That  comes  down  through  the  night 

From  the  heavenly  throng. 
Ay  !  we  shout  to  the  lovely  evangel  they  bring, 
And  we  greet  in  His  cradle  our  Saviour  and  King. 


"  When  Morning  Gilds  the  Skies." 
Edward  CaswalL 

"  T  T  THEN  morning  gilds  the  skies  "  is  by  Edward 
VV  Caswall,  who  was  born  in  Yately,  England, 
July  15,  1814.  He  was  the  son  of  a  vicar  of  the 
Church  of  England,  graduated  at  Oxford,  and  him- 
self became  a  clergyman  of  the  English  Church.  In 
1847,  however,  he  left  that  church  and  became  a 
Catholic  priest  in  the  Birmingham  church  founded 
by  Cardinal  Newman,  where  he  remained  until  his 
death,  January  2,  1878. 

He  was  very  earnest  in  his  duties  as  a  minister, 
and  took  a  loving  interest  in  the  poor,  the  sick,  and 
little  children.  He  translated  many  Latin  hymns, 
and  his  work  as  a  translator  has  obtained  more  favor 
than  that  of  any  one  else  except  Dr.  Neale.  His 
translations  are  true  to  the  original  and  are  faultless 
in  their  form.  The  most  famous  of  them  are,  "  O 
Jesus,  King  most  wonderful,"  and  ''  Jesus,  the  very 
thought  of  Thee."  Of  the  latter  hymn  Dr.  Robinson 
says :  "  One  might  call  this  poem  the  finest  in  the 
world  and  still  be  within  the  limits  of  all  extrava- 
gance." 

Our  hymn,  "When  morning  gilds  the  skies,"  was 
written  in  1854.  It  is  a  translation  from  a  German 
hymn,  but  so  free  a  translation  that  it  is  practically  a 
new  hymn.  The  hymn  is  said  to  be  a  great  favorite 
in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  London,  where  it  is  usually 

197 


igS  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

printed  for  distribution  on  a  separate  sheet.     The 
following  is  the  entire  hymn :  — 

When  morning  gilds  the  skies, 
My  heart,  awaking,  cries, 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 
Alike  at  work  and  prayer. 
To  Jesus  I  repair ; 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 

Whene'er  the  sweet  church-bell 
Peals  over  hill  and  dell, 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 
O,  hark  to  what  it  sings 
As  joyously  it  rings, 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 

My  tongue  shall  never  tire 
Of  chanting  with  the  choir. 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 
This  song  of  sacred  joy, 
It  never  seems  to  cloy  ; 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 

When  sleep  her  balm  denies, 
My  silent  spirit  sighs, 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 
When  evil  thoughts  molest, 
With  this  I  shield  my  breast : 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 

Does  sadness  fill  my  mind, 
A  solace  here  I  find  : 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  1 
Or  fades  my  earthly  bliss. 
My  comfort  still  is  this : 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 


When  Morning  Gilds  the  Skies  igg 

The  night  becomes  as  day, 
When  from  the  heart  we  say, 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  I 
The  powers  of  darkness  fear 
When  this  sweet  chant  they  hear : 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 

In  heaven's  eternal  bliss 
The  loveliest  strain  is  this : 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 
Let  earth,  and  sea,  and  sky 
From  depth  to  height  reply, 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 

Be  this,  while  life  is  mine. 
My  canticle  divine : 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 
Be  this  the  eternal  song 
Through  ages  all  along : 

May  Jesus  Christ  be  praised  ! 


"Somebody  Did  a  Golden  Deed/* 
John  R.  Clements. 

THIS  famous  song  was  written  by  that  well-known 
Christian  Endeavorer,   Mr.  John  R.  Clements. 

Born  in  County  Armagh,  Ireland,  November  28, 
1868,  of  Scotch-Irish  parents,  John  Clements  was 
brought  to  the  United  States  at  the  age  of  two.  He 
lived  in  the  country  till  he  was  seventeen  years  old, 
and  got  his  education  in  "  the  old  schoolhouse  on 
the  hill." 

He  began  business  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  and  has 
been  at  it  ever  since.  For  four  years  a  retail  grocery- 
clerk,  he  has  since  been  in  the  wholesale  grocery 
business,  and  is  very  successful. 

Mr.  Clements  was  *'  born  again "  under  Mr. 
Moody's  preaching  in  1886.  He  is  a  Presbyterian 
deacon  in  his  home  city  of  Binghamton,  N.  Y. 

As  Mr.  Clements  says,  he  was  **  discovered,  de- 
veloped, and  educated  by,  through,  and  in  Christian 
Endeavor."  He  became  the  president  of  the  New 
York  State  Christian  Endeavor  Union.  He  served 
faithfully  for  many  years  as  the  secretary  of  that 
union,  and  has  back  of  him  a  long  record  of  Chris- 
tian Endeavor  service  in  all  kinds  of  positions — in 
local  societies,  local  unions,  and  the  State  union.  He 
has  spoken  at  many  International  Conventions  also, 
and  he  is  always  ready  to  aid  the  Christian  Endeavor 
cause. 

200 


Somebody  Did  a  Golden  Deed  201 

Mr.  Clements  is  still  a  young  man,  in  age  and 
force,  in  spite  of  the  large  amount  of  work  he  has 
done.  He  is  a  very  devoted  Bible  student,  and 
practically  all  of  his  hymns  took  their  suggestion 
from  the  Book  of  books.  A  man  of  the  cheeriest 
and  most  friendly  temper,  he  is  an  inspiring  speaker, 
a  warm  personal  friend,  and  an  enthusiastic  and  re- 
sourceful religious  leader. 

Mr.  Clements  began  to  write  verse  at  the  age  of 
fifteen, — "  because  I  could  not  help  it,"  he  says  ; 
and  adds,  **  Christian  Endeavor  put  the  devotional 
touch  to  my  pen."  He  has  probably  written  more 
hymns  than  any  other  Christian  Endeavorer,  and  he 
has  edited  several  song-books,  especially  "  Best 
Endeavor  Hymns,"  which  he  edited  with  Mr.  I.  Allan 
Sankey,  the  son  of  the  famous  singer.  Some  of  the 
best  music  for  Mr.  Clements's  hymns  was  written  by 
Professor  Weeden,  a  Hfe-long  friend  of  Mr.  Clements. 
Another  of  his  close  friends  among  song-writers  is 
Fanny  Crosby. 

Among  the  well-known  songs  written  by  Mr. 
Clements  are  *' Jesus  Leads,"  *' No  Night  There," 
'*  Until  a  Little  While,"  **  Lord,  Is  It  I  ?  "  and  ''  Just 
a  Little  Sunshine,"  but  the  most  famous  of  his  songs 
is,  "  Somebody  Did  a  Golden  Deed." 

The  first  stanza  was  not  written  by  Mr.  Clements, 
but  is  part  of  an  anonymous  poem  which  he  found, 
using  only  the  first  stanza,  and  revising  that.  The 
remainder  of  the  poem  is  entirely  Mr.  Clements's. 
Professor  Weeden,  who  wrote  the  music,  considered 
it  to  be  his  best  song-tune. 

Mr.   Clements  says  that  the  song  grew  out  of  a 


202  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

discouraging  personal  Christian  experience.  Mr. 
Alexander  made  much  use  of  the  song  in  his  London 
evangelistic  campaign  with  Dr.  Torrey,  and  many 
testimonies  have  come  to  Mr.  Clements  regarding 
the  power  of  the  song  in  distant  lands.  The  stanzas 
are  as  follows  : — 

Somebody  did  a  golden  deed, 
Proving  himself  a  friend  in  need  ; 
Somebody  sang  a  cheerful  song, 
Brightening  the  skies  the  whole  day  long, — 
Was  that  somebody  you  ? 

Somebody  thought  'tis  sweet  to  live. 
Willingly  said,  "I'm  glad  to  give  "  ; 
Somebody  fought  a  valiant  fight. 
Bravely  he  lived  to  shield  the  right, — 
Was  that  somebody  you  ? 

Somebody  made  a  loving  gift, 
Cheerfully  tried  a  load  to  lift ; 
Somebody  told  the  love  of  Christ, 
Told  how  His  will  was  sacrificed, — 
Was  that  somebody  you  ? 

Somebody  idled  all  the  hours. 
Carelessly  crushed  life's  fairest  flowers ; 
Somebody  made  life  loss,  not  gain. 
Thoughtlessly  seemed  to  live  in  vain, — 
Was  that  somebody  you  ? 

Somebody  filled  the  days  with  light, 
Constantly  chased  away  the  night ; 
Somebody's  work  bore  joy  and  peace, 
Surely  his  life  shall  never  cease, — 
Was  that  somebody  you  ? 


"  O  God,  the  Rock  of  Ages." 
Edward  Henry  Bickersteth. 

THIS  beautiful  hymn  was  written  by  Edward 
Henry  Bickersteth,  who  was  born  at  Islington, 
England,  on  January  25,  1825.  His  father  was  a 
clergyman  of  the  English  Church,  and  was  himself 
an  able  hymn-writer  and  editor  of  hymn-books. 
The  son  was  educated  at  Cambridge  University — 
which  afterward  gave  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Divinity — and  rose  in  the  English  Church  until  he 
became  in  1885  Bishop  of  Exeter.  He  held  that 
position  for  fifteen  years,  greatly  honored  and  be- 
loved, and  resigned  in  1900.  He  died  on  May  16, 
1906. 

Bishop  Bickersteth  wrote  twelve  volumes,  chiefly 
poems.  One  of  these  was  a  long  poem,  occupying 
twelve  cantos,  or  books,  in  blank  verse.  It  is  en- 
titled, **  Yesterday,  To-day,  and  Forever  " — a  lofty 
theme,  dealing  with  the  past,  the  present,  and  the 
future. 

Bishop  Bickersteth  edited  three  hymnals,  and 
thirty  of  his  own  hymns  have  come  into  common 
use.  All  of  them  are  full  of  deep  feeling  and  are 
particularly  suited  to  the  uses  of  private  devotion. 
Among  his  best-loved  hymns  are  '*  Peace,  perfect 
peace,"  "  *  Till  He  come,'  oh,  let  the  words,"  "  O 
Christ,  who  hast  ascended,"  **  Not  worthy.  Lord,  to 

203 


204  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

gather  up  the  crumbs,"  and  "  Stand,  soldier  of  the 
cross." 

Our  hymn,  "  O  God,  the  Rock  of  Ages,"  was  com- 
posed in  1862.  The  author  associated  it  with  Isa. 
40  :  8  in  printing  it,  stating  that  that  verse  suggested 
the  hymn  ;  but  the  hymn  is  almost  a  literal  and  very 
beautiful  rendering  of  the  Ninetieth  Psalm.  It  is  as 
follows  : — 

O  God,  the  Rock  of  Ages, 

Who  evermore  hast  been, 
What  time  the  tempest  rages, 

Our  dwelling-place  serene ; 
Before  Thy  first  creations, 

O  Lord,  the  same  as  now, 
To  endless  generations 

The  Everlasting  Thou. 

Our  years  are  like  the  shadows 

On  sunny  hills  that  lie, 
Or  grasses  in  the  meadows 

That  blossom  but  to  die  : 
A  sleep,  a  dream,  a  story 

By  strangers  quickly  told. 
An  unremaining  glory 

Of  things  that  soon  are  old. 

O  Thou,  who  canst  not  slumber, 

Whose  light  grows  never  pale, 
Teach  us  aright  to  number 

Our  years  before  they  fail. 
On  us  Thy  mercy  lighten. 

On  us  Thy  goodness  rest, 
And  let  Thy  spirit  brighten 

The  hearts  Thyself  hast  blessed. 


O  God,  the  Rock  of  Ages  205 

Lord,  crown  our  faith's  endeavor 

With  beauty  and  with  grace, 
Till,  clothed  in  light  forever, 

We  see  Thee  face  to  face  : 
A  joy  no  language  measures, 

A  fountain  brimming  o'er. 
An  endless  flow  of  pleasures. 

An  ocean  without  shore. 


"  Lord,  It  Belongs  Not  to  My  Care/' 

Richard  Baxter, 

RICHARD  BAXTER,  who  wrote  this  beautiful 
hymn,  was  a  famous  English  clergyman  and 
author.  He  was  born  on  November  12,  161 5,  in 
one  of  the  most  troublous  times  of  English  history. 
He  was  converted  at  the  age  of  fifteen  by  watching 
the  beautiful  way  in  which  his  father,  when  op- 
pressed and  persecuted,  faced  and  conquered  his 
enemies. 

Baxter  became  a  school-teacher,  and  then  a  min- 
ister of  the  Church  of  England.  At  one  time  he 
was  the  chaplain  of  one  of  Cromwell's  regiments. 
After  the  monarchy  was  restored,  he  became  chap- 
lain to  Charles  the  Second,  and  was  so  honored  that 
a  bishopric  was  offered  to  him,  but  he  refused  it. 

There  came  a  time,  however,  when  restrictions 
were  placed  upon  the  clergymen  of  the  English 
Church,  and  Baxter,  with  two  thousand  other  **  Non- 
conformists "  who  would  not  agree  to  these  require- 
ments, were  in  1662  driven  from  their  churches,  and 
from  that  time  for  many  years  Baxter  was  subject  to 
severe  persecutions. 

Once  he  was  imprisoned  for  a  year  and  a  half. 
At  another  time  a  friend  left  him  in  his  will  $100  to 
distribute  his  book,  *'  A  Call  to  the  Unconverted," 
but  the  courts  held  the  legacy  void,  as  it  was  to  be 

206 


Lord,  It  Belongs  Not  to  My  Care  207 

applied  **  to  superstitious  uses."  At  one  time  a 
guard  of  soldiers  prevented  his  entering  his  pulpit. 
At  another  time,  because  it  would  have  been  his 
death  to  put  him  in  prison,  he  was  heavily  fined  for 
the  preaching  of  five  sermons,  and  his  goods  and  his 
books  were  sold  to  pay  the  fine.  He  was  brought 
into  court  at  another  time  for  the  writing  of  a  para- 
phrase of  the  New  Testament.  His  appearance  was 
so  sad,  yet  dignified,  that  the  eyes  of  Judge  Hale 
filled  with  tears  when  Baxter  was  brought  before 
him. 

Baxter  died  on  December  8,  1691.  He  wrote 
sixty  large  volumes  and  more  than  one  hundred 
pamphlets  ;  he  also  wrote  several  volumes  of  poems. 
One  of  them,  which  contained  the  hymn  we  are 
studying,  was  published  in  1681  with  the  curious 
title :  '*  Poetical  Fragments :  Heart  Imployment 
with  God  and  Itself :  The  Concordant  Discord  of  a 
Broken-healed  Heart :  Sorrowing-rejoicing,  Fearing- 
hoping,  Dying-living." 

The  hymn  was  originally  one  of  eight  stanzas, 
with  eight  lines  each.  Our  five-stanza  hymn,  of 
four  lines  each,  is  taken  from  it. 

The  hymn  was  entitled  by  Baxter,  "The  Cove- 
nant and  Confidence  of  Faith,"  and  he  affixed  to 
the  hymn  the  following  tender  note :  **  This  Cove- 
nant my  dear  Wife  in  her  former  Sickness  sub- 
scribed with  a  Cheerful  will." 

Baxter's  greatest  prose  work  was  his  "Saint's 
Everlasting  Rest,"  usually  referred  to  as  "  Baxter's 
Saint's  Rest."  The  book  was  written  at  a  time 
when  Mr.  Baxter  himself  was  withdrawn  from  work 


2o8  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

because  of  physical  weakness,  and  compelled  to  rest. 
Baxter's  *'  Call,"  the  fuller  tide  being  the  '*  Call  to 
the  Unconverted,"  is  another  famous  work  from  his 
pen. 

Mr.  Baxter  was  a  most  faithful  pastor.  When  he 
went  to  his  first  charge  it  is  said  that  hardly  a  house 
on  a  street  was  in  the  practice  of  family  prayers. 
When  he  left,  there  was  hardly  a  household  that  did 
not  observe  the  custom. 

In  his  last  illness,  when  a  caller  asked  how  he 
was,  he  looked  up  to  heaven  and  said,  "Almost 
well." 

Here  is  his  most  beautiful  poem  : — 

Lord,  it  belongs  not  to  my  care 

Whether  I  die  or  live ; 
To  love  and  serve  Thee  is  my  share, 

And  this  Thy  grace  must  give. 

If  life  be  long,  I  will  be  glad 

That  I  may  long  obey ; 
If  short,  yet  why  should  I  be  sad 

To  soar  to  endless  day  ? 

Christ  leads  me  through  no  darker  rooms 
Than  He  went  through  before ; 

No  one  into  His  kingdom  comes 
But  through  His  open  door. 

Come,  Lord,  when  grace  has  made  me  meet 

Thy  blessed  face  to  see ; 
For  if  Thy  work  on  earth  be  sweet, 

What  will  Thy  glory  be  ! 


Lord,  It  Belongs  Not  to  My  Care  209 

My  knowledge  of  that  life  is  small ; 

The  eye  of  faith  is  dim  ; 
But  'tis  enough  that  Christ  knows  all, 

And  I  shall  be  with  Him. 


"  O  Lord,  How  Full  of  Sweet  Content." 

Madame  Guyon. 

ONE  of  the  most  remarkable  women  who  ever 
lived  was  Madame  Jeanne  Marie  Bouvieres  de 
la  Mothe  Guyon.  She  was  born  in  Montargis, 
France,  April  13,  1648,  and  was  educated  in  a  con- 
vent. At  the  early  age  of  sixteen  she  married 
M.  Guyon,  a  man  twenty-two  years  older  than  her- 
self. 

Her  married  life  was  full  of  trials,  on  account  of 
the  poor  health  of  her  husband,  the  harshness  of  her 
mother-in-law  combined  with  her  own  quick  temper, 
the  death  of  a  child  at  the  age  of  four,  and  the  loss 
of  her  beauty  through  smallpox  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
two. 

After  twelve  years  of  this  unhappy  married  life  her 
husband  died.  Madame  Guyon  then  appointed  a 
guardian  for  her  three  children,  settled  the  most  of  her 
property  upon  them,  and  as  an  ardent  Catholic  spent 
the  rest  of  her  life  in  religious  meditation  and  active 
teaching. 

She  was  an  earnest  devotee  of  what  is  known  as 
Quietism,  a  form  of  religion  consisting  of  contempla- 
tion of  God  and  the  reception  of  His  Spirit,  the  at- 
tempt being  made  to  withdraw  the  soul  from  every- 
thing else  so  that  it  is  oblivious  alike  of  good  and 

210 


O  Lord,  How  Full  of  Sweet  Content         211 

of  evil,  and  does  not  even  care  whether  it  is  saved  or 
lost. 

Such  a  system  of  thought  leads  its  followers  to  be 
entirely  careless  of  all  outward  acts,  and  Madame 
Guyon  was  often  assailed  by  scandals,  which  were 
probably  unfounded.  Her  teaching  was  opposed  by 
the  church,  and  she  was  compelled  to  promise  to 
cease  advocating  her  peculiar  views,  but  she  broke 
the  promise.  She  was  imprisoned  three  times,  the 
last  time  in  the  famous  Bastile  in  Paris  for  four  years. 
She  was  kept  in  one  of  the  darkest  dungeons,  in  the 
same  tower  where  the  famous  unknown  prisoner, 
**  the  Man  with  the  Iron  Mask,"  was  confined — a 
prisoner  whose  face  was  always  hidden  by  a  mask. 

Madame  Guyon  wrote  forty  volumes.  Among 
these  were  no  fewer  than  nine  hundred  hymns  and 
other  poems,  many  of  which  were  written  in  prison. 
She  would  sometimes  write  five  or  six  hymns  in  a 
single  day.  She  was  a  woman  of  most  attractive 
personality,  and  her  life  was  filled  with  deeds  of 
charity.  After  all  her  troubles  she  died  in  peace  at 
Diziers  on  June  9,  171 7. 

Our  hymn  is  said  to  have  been  written  in  168 1, 
when  Madame  Guyon  was  thirty-three  years  old. 
She  was  then  living  near  Geneva,  at  a  distance  from 
her  home,  and  the  last  stanza  refers  to  that  fact. 

The  hymn  was  translated  from  the  French  by 
William  Cowper.  A  friend  gave  him  Madame 
Guyon's  poems  to  translate  at  a  time  when  he  him- 
self was  in  one  of  his  fits  of  deep  melancholy  ap- 
proaching insanity,  hoping  that  the  calm  taught  by 
Madame  Guvon  would  enter  his   own  life.     In  all, 


212  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Cowper  translated  thirty-seven  of  her  hymns,  this 
being  by  far  the  most  famous.  The  original  poem 
had  nine  stanzas,  but  only  the  following  four  are 
commonly  used  in  our  hymnals  : — 

O  Lord,  how  full  of  sweet  content 
Our  years  of  pilgrimage  are  spent  1 
Where'er  we  dwell,  we  dwell  with  Thee, 
In  heaven,  in  earth,  or  on  the  sea. 

To  us  remains  nor  place  nor  time : 
Our  country  is  in  every  clime : 
We  can  be  calm  and  free  from  care 
On  any  shore,  since  God  is  there. 

While  place  we  seek,  or  place  we  shun, 
The  soul  finds  happiness  in  none ; 
But  with  our  God  to  guide  our  way, 
'Tis  equal  joy  to  go  or  stay. 

Could  we  be  cast  where  Thou  art  not, 
That  were  indeed  a  dreadful  lot ; 
But  regions  none  remote  we  call, 
Secure  of  finding  God  in  all. 


"  Cast  Thy  Burden  on  the  Lord." 

Rowland  Hill. 

IT  is  not  positively  known  that  this  hymn  was 
written  by  Rowland  Hill,  but  it  is  practically  cer- 
tain that  Mr.  Hill  wrote  the  hymn  in  its  first  form 
and  published  it  in  1783  in  his  collection,  "Psalms 
and  Hymns,"  with  the  title,  '' Encouragement  for  the 
Weak."  The  hymn  was  re-written  by  George  Raw- 
son  in  1853,  and  we  still  use  many  of  Rawson's 
changes. 

When  singing  the  hymn  it  is  pleasant  to  connect 
it  with  Rowland  Hill,  who  was  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting characters  of  modern  times.  He  was  born 
near  Shrewsbury,  England,  August  23,  1744.  His 
father  was  Sir  Rowland  Hill,  who  deserves  the  espe- 
cial gratitude  of  the  world  for  the  improvements  he 
made  in  regard  to  letter  postage.  Before  his  time 
postage  had  been  very  high.  It  varied  according  to 
the  distance  the  letter  had  to  be  carried,  and  was 
paid,  not  by  the  sender  of  the  letter,  but  by  the  recip- 
ient. Sir  Rowland  Hill  changed  all  that.  He  in- 
vented perforated  stamps,  and  brought  about  pre- 
payment of  postage,  and  a  uniform  and  low  rate. 

His  son  Rowland,  educated  at  Cambridge  Uni- 
versity, became  a  minister  of  the  Church  of  England. 
Even  while  preparing  for  the  ministry  he  scandalized 
his  teachers  by  conducting  religious  services  in  the 

213 


214  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

homes  of  the  poor  and  the  sick.  He  came  under  the 
influence  of  George  Whitefield,  the  famous  evangel- 
ist, and  himself  took  up  the  practice,  so  strange  at 
that  time,  of  outdoor  preaching. 

He  spent  twelve  years  as  an  itinerant  minister,  and 
then,  falling  heir  to  considerable  property,  he  built 
Surrey  Chapel  in  London  at  his  own  expense,  and 
preached  there  for  fifty  years,  until  his  death.  He 
was  very  popular,  and  his  congregations  were  the 
largest  in  London.  It  was  his  practice  every  sum- 
mer to  make  extensive  gospel  tours.  He  had  a 
strong  voice,  which  fitted  him  for  outdoor  preaching, 
and  he  was  possessed  of  great  dramatic  power.  For 
example,  at  one  time  he  was  impressed  by  the  ear- 
nestness of  a  man  who  was  selling  matches  outside 
his  study  window,  and  began  his  next  sermon  by 
shouting,  "  Matches  I  Matches  !  Matches  !  "  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  going  on  to  preach  concerning  the 
value  of  earnestness.  He  was  a  man  of  tremendous 
energy,  and  preached  on  the  average  350  sermons 
a  year  for  sixty-six  years.  He  was  in  the  habit  of 
declaring  that  any  man  who  had  become  able  to 
preach  extemporaneously  should  find  preaching  a 
daily  delight. 

Mr.  Hill  was  greatly  interested  in  missions  and 
evangelism.  He  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Lon- 
don Missionary  Society,  and  was  a  member  of  the 
first  committee  of  the  Religious  Tract  Society. 

He  was  a  famous  wit  and  was  remarkable  for  his 
eccentricity.  At  one  time  after  a  group  in  which  he 
was  present  had  been  indulging  in  considerable 
scandal  he  called  for  a  brush  and  dust-pan  and  be- 


Cast  Thy  Burden  on  the  Lord  215 

gan  to  sweep  the  floor,  declaring  that  a  good  deal 
of  dirt  had  been  scattered  around  there  lately. 

On  another  occasion  when  a  frank  critic  after  lis- 
tening to  Mr.  Hill  declared  that  the  sermon  had  gone 
*'  from  Dan  to  Beer-sheba,"  "  Never  mind,  my 
friend,"  the  preacher  answered,  ''  that  is  all  holy 
ground." 

'•I  like  ejaculatory  prayer,"  he  once  said,  "it 
reaches  heaven  before  the  devil  can  get  a  shot  at  it." 

He  cared  more  for  the  matter  than  for  the  manner 
of  his  speech.  **  Those  who  are  hearing  a  will  read," 
he  argued,  "  consider  the  contents  rather  than  the 
manner  in  which  it  is  read." 

He  was  strongly  evangelistic.  **  A  sermon  is  not 
worth  a  rush,"  he  declared,  ''that  has  not  got  the 
Redeemer  in  it." 

He  was  possessed  of  a  beautiful  Christian  spirit, 
well  expressed  in  one  of  his  well-known  sayings, 
"  The  best  of  life  is  to  live  for  others."  **  Every  twig 
of  God's  rod,"  he  said,  **  grows  in  the  paradise  of 
His  love." 

Mr.  Hill  came  to  the  close  of  his  useful  life  on 
April  II,  1833.  He  wrote  several  hymn-books,  and 
a  number  of  works  in  prose.  To  the  hymn-books  he 
contributed  a  number  of  hymns,  but  all  of  them 
anonymously.  Our  hymn  is  the  most  famous  of 
these.  Its  thought,  of  course,  is  derived  from  Psalm 
55  :  22,  and  the  hymn  is  as  follows  : — 

Cast  thy  burden  on  the  Lord, 
Only  lean  upon  His  word  ; 
Thou  shalt  soon  have  cause  to  bless 
His  eternal  faithfulness. 


21 6  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Ever  in  the  raging  storm 
Thou  shalt  see  His  cheering  form, 
Hear  His  pledge  of  coming  aid  : 
"  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid." 

Cast  thy  burden  at  His  feet ; 
Linger  at  His  mercy-seat : 
He  will  lead  thee  by  the  hand 
Gently  to  the  better  land. 

He  will  gird  thee  by  His  power, 
In  thy  weary,  fainting  hour  : 
Lean,  then,  loving,  on  His  word ; 
Cast  thy  burden  on  the  Lord. 


"  The  Breaking  Waves  Dashed  High." 

Felicia  Dorothea  Hemans. 

MRS.  HEMANS,  who  wrote  this  patriotic  hymn, 
was  one  of  the  greatest  women  of  the  past 
century.  She  was  FeHcia  Dorothea  Browne,  and 
was  born  in  Liverpool,  on  September  25,  1793.  She 
married  Captain  Hemans  of  the  British  army,  but 
they  lived  together  only  six  years.  He  ran  away  to 
Italy,  leaving  her  with  their  five  sons,  and  she  never 
saw  him  again.  This  event  greatly  saddened  her 
life,  and,  together  with  the  hard  work  and  anxiety 
attending  the  education  of  her  children,  hastened 
the  disease  of  which  she  died  on  May  16,  1835,  at 
the  early  age  of  forty-one. 

Mrs.  Hemans  began  to  write  creditable  verse  at 
the  age  of  eleven,  and  published  her  first  volume  of 
poems  when  she  was  fifteen.  Another  book  of  hers, 
published  the  same  year,  won  the  praise  of  Shelley. 
Wordsworth  called  her 

"  That  holy  spirit, 
Sweet  as  the  spring,  as  ocean  deep." 

Once  she  visited  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  in  parting 
the  great  writer  said  to  her,  "  There  are  some  whom 
we  meet  and  should  like  ever  after  to  claim  as  kith 
and  kin,  and  you  are  one  of  these." 

Mrs.  Hemans  wrote  many  books,  and  her  poems 
had  a  very  wide   popularity.     "The  Forest  Sanc- 

217 


2i8  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

tuary"  is  probably  the  best  of  them.  Especially 
famous  are  "Casablanca"  ("The  boy  stood  on  the 
burning  deck  "),  *'  The  Voice  of  Spring,"  and  "  The 
Stately  Homes  of  England." 

Of  her  poems  used  as  hymns  the  best  known  are, 
"  Calm  on  the  bosom  of  thy  God,"  "  Child  amidst 
the  flowers  at  play,"  "  I  hear  thee  speak  of  the  bet- 
ter land,"  and  the  one  we  print  below,  "  The  break- 
ing waves  dashed  high." 

This  brilliant  poem,  whose  title  is  "  The  Landing 
of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  in  New  England,"  was  pub- 
lished in  1828.  As  she  sat  at  the  tea-table  one  even- 
ing Mrs.  Hemans  read  an  old  account  of  the  landing 
of  the  Pilgrims,  and  was  at  once  moved  to  write  the 
poem.  James  T.  Fields,  the  poet  and  publisher, 
once  visited  her  and  obtained  an  autograph  copy  of 
the  poem,  which  is  now  preserved  in  Pilgrim  Hall 
in  Plymouth,  Mass. 

The  hymn  is  a  long  one,  but  it  would  be  difficult 
to  omit  a  stanza  : — 

The  breaking  waves  dashed  high 

On  a  stern  and  rock-bound  coast, 
And  the  woods  against  a  stormy  sky 

Their  giant  branches  tossed  ; 

And  the  heavy  night  hung  dark 

The  hills  and  waters  o'er, 
When  a  band  of  exiles  moored  their  bark 

On  the  wild  New  England  shore. 

Not  as  the  conqueror  comes, 

They,  the  true-hearted,  came ; 
Not  with  the  roll  of  the  stirring  drums. 

And  the  trumpet  that  sings  of  fame ; 


The  Breaking  Waves  Dashed  High  219 

Not  as  the  flying  come, 

In  silence  and  in  fear ; 
They  shook  the  depths  of  the  desert  gloom 

With  their  hymns  of  lofty  cheer. 

Amidst  the  storm  they  sang, 

And  the  stars  heard  and  the  sea  ; 
And  the  sounding  aisles  of  the  dim  woods  rang 

To  the  anthem  of  the  free  ! 

The  ocean  eagle  soared 

From  his  nest  by  the  white  wave's  foam ; 
And  the  rocking  pines  of  the  forest  roared  — 

This  was  their  welcome  home  ! 

There  were  men  with  hoary  hair 

Amidst  that  pilgrim  band  ; 
Why  had  they  come  to  wither  there, 

Away  from  their  childhood's  land  ? 

There  was  woman's  fearless  eye. 

Lit  by  her  deep  love's  truth  ; 
There  was  manhood's  brow  serenely  high, 

And  the  fiery  heart  of  youth. 

What  sought  they  thus  afar  ? — 

Bright  jewels  of  the  mine  ? 
The  wealth  of  seas,  the  spoils  of  war? — 

They  sought  a  faith's  pure  shrine  ! 

Ay,  call  it  holy  ground. 

The  soil  where  first  they  trod, 
They  have  left  unstained  what  there  they  found  — 

Freedom  to  worship  God  ! 


"  There  Is  a  Happy  Land." 
Andrew  Young, 

ANDREW  YOUNG,  who  wrote  this  favorite 
Sunday-school  song,  **  There  is  a  happy  land," 
was  the  son  of  David  Young,  who  was  a  very  suc- 
cessful teacher  in  Edinburgh,  Scotland,  for  more 
than  fifty  years. 

Andrew  was  born  in  Edinburgh  on  April  23,  1907, 
and  distinguished  himself  for  his  scholarship  during 
his  course  in  Edinburgh  University.  In  1830  he  be- 
came head  master  of  Niddry  Street  School  in  Edin- 
burgh, where  he  began  with  eighty  pupils,  and  in 
ten  years  increased  the  number  to  600  pupils.  In 
1840  he  became  head  master  of  Madras  College  in 
St.  Andrew's  University,  where  he  met  with  equal 
success.  In  1853  he  retired  and  lived  in  Edinburgh 
until  his  death,  November  30,  1889. 

Mr.  Young  contributed  to  periodicals  many  hymns 
and  other  poems  of  admirable  quality,  and  in  1876 
he  made  a  collection  of  those,  entitled  ''Scottish 
Islands  and  Other  Poems."  The  most  popular  of 
his  hymns,  "  There  is  a  happy  land,"  was  written  in 
1838,  after  Mr.  Young  had  been  spending  the  even- 
ing in  the  home  of  Mrs.  Marshall,  the  mother  of  one 
of  his  pupils,  who  had  played  a  Hindu  air  which  he 
liked.     The  name  was  "  Happy  Land,"  and  the  tune 

220 


There  Is  a  Happy  Land  221 

so  fastened  itself  in  his  head  that  he  wrote  his  hymn 
to  it.  It  was  sung  in  his  class  at  the  Niddry  Street 
School,  and  there  it  was  heard  by  Rev.  James  Gall, 
who  in  1843  included  it  in  his  ''  Sacred  Song  Book," 
where  it  soon  became  well  known. 

It  was  translated  into  Chinese,  the  languages  of 
India,  Africa,  and  many  other  lands.  The  famous 
Presbyterian  missionary  to  the  New  Hebrides,  Dr. 
John  Inglis,  translated  it  in  1854  into  the  language 
of  those  islands,  and  it  became  a  great  favorite  there. 

It  is  interesting  to  know  that  Mr.  Young,  whose 
hymn  has  been  sung  in  almost  every  Sunday  school 
in  the  world,  was  himself  for  some  time  the  superin- 
tendent of  a  Sunday  school  in  Edinburgh. 

This  is  the  hymn  substantially  as  he  wrote  it : — 


There  is  a  happy  land, 

Far,  far  away, 
Where  saints  in  glory  stand, 

Bright,  bright  as  day. 
O,  how  they  sweetly  sing, 
Worthy  is  our  Saviour  King, 
Loud  let  His  praises  ring, 

Praise,  praise  for  aye." 


Come  to  that  happy  land, 

Come,  come  away. 
Why  will  ye  doubting  stand, 

Why  still  delay  ? 
O,  we  shall  happy  be 
When,  from  sin  and  sorrow  free, 
Lord,  we  shall  live  with  Thee, 

Blest,  blest  for  aye. 


222  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Bright  in  that  happy  land 
Beams  every  eye. 

Kept  by  a  Father's  hand, 
Love  cannot  die. 

O,  then  to  glory  run  ; 

Be  a  crown  and  kingdom  won ; 

And  bright,  above  the  sun, 
We  reign  for  aye. 


« I  Am  So  Glad  That  Our  Father  in  Heaven/' 
P.  P.  Bliss, 

ONE  of  the  leading  hymn-writers  of  the  United 
States  was  P.  P.  Bliss.  Indeed,  Mr.  Bliss 
probably  wrote  more  hymns  that  are  held  in  high 
esteem  by  the  church  to-day  than  any  other  Ameri- 
can, with  the  single  exception  of  Fanny  Crosby. 

His  life  was  one  of  exceptional  interest.  He  was 
born  in  Clearfield  County,  Penn.,  July  9,  1838.  His 
family  was  a  poor  one,  living  in  a  log  house.  His 
father  removed  several  times  to  Ohio  and  back  again 
to  Pennsylvania,  so  that  the  lad  had  little  schooling. 

Mr.  Bliss's  name  was  originally  **  Philipp."  Not 
relishing  this  eccentric  spelling,  Mr.  Bliss  in  later 
years  used  the  superfluous  "  P  "  as  a  middle  initial, 
writing  his  name  *'  Philip  P.  Bliss,"  or,  more  com- 
monly, **  P.  P.  Bliss." 

His  father  taught  him  religion  by  his  singing, 
praying,  and  Bible-reading,  and  every  day  his 
mother  gave  him  lessons.  Early  in  his  boyhood  he 
showed  a  passion  for  music,  and  would  sing  and 
play  on  rude  instruments  that  he  himself  made.  He 
was  ten  years  old  when  he  heard  his  first  piano  as 
he  was  passing  by  a  house.  The  poor,  barefoot  boy 
was  so  fascinated  that  he  dared  to  enter  the  house 
and  stand  at  the  parlor  door.  The  young  lady  who 
was  playing  the  piano  stopped  when  she  saw  him. 
"  O  lady,  play  some  more,"  said  the  boy  ;  but,  far 

223 


224  ^  Treasure  of  Hymns 

from  being  moved  by  his  evident  appreciation  of  the 
music,  the  young  woman  answered  him  rudely,  '*  Get 
out  of  here  with  your  great  feet." 

At  the  age  of  eleven  young  Bliss  set  out  from  his 
father's  house  to  work  on  a  farm,  all  his  clothes  be- 
ing tied  up  in  a  handkerchief.  At  the  age  of  thirteen 
we  find  him  still  working  on  a  farm,  getting  the 
munificent  wages  of  $9  a  month.  At  the  age  of 
fourteen  he  was  assistant  cook  in  a  lumber-camp, 
and  the  next  year  he  began  to  cut  logs,  and  then 
worked  in  a  sawmill.  During  all  this  time  he  went 
to  school  when  he  could.  In  1850  there  was  a 
revival  in  the  schoolhouse,  and,  though  he  had 
always  loved  the  Saviour,  he  then  made  public  pro- 
fession of  his  faith,  and  became  a  member  of  the 
Baptist  church.  In  1855  he  had  the  rare  privilege 
of  a  whole  winter  in  school,  and  made  so  good  use 
of  his  opportunity  that  the  next  year  he  himself 
taught  a  school.  About  this  time  he  enjoyed  his 
first  singing-school,  J.  G.  Towner  being  the  teacher, 
and  soon  afterward  he  attended  his  first  musical 
convention,  in  charge  of  the  famous  composer, 
W.  B.  Bradbury.  Next  we  find  him  teaching  in  the 
academy  of  Rome,  Penn. 

He  married,  and  his  wife  was  indeed  a  helpmeet. 
She  was  a  Presbyterian,  and  Mr.  Bliss  also  joined 
that  church,  becoming  the  superintendent  of  the 
Sunday  school.  He  heard  of  the  Normal  Academy 
of  Music  at  Geneseo,  N.  Y.,  and  longed  to  go  so 
much  that  he  broke  down  crying.  He  had  not  a 
cent  in  the  world,  and  his  wages  were  only  $13  a 
month.     Seeing   his   grief,   his  wife's   grandmother 


I  Am  So  Glad  That  Our  Father  in  Heaven     225 

brought  out  her  stocking  with  its  hoard  of  silver,  a 
sum  of  more  than  $30,  and  gave  it  to  him  for  that 
purpose.  He  became  a  music-teacher,  and  gave 
himself  up  to  the  fascinating  art. 

In  1864  he  wrote  and  published  his  first  song, 
**  Lora  Vale,"  and  for  the  rest  of  his  remaining  twelve 
years  of  life  he  was  writing  songs  and  giving  con- 
certs, which  were  very  popular.  Mrs.  Bliss  went 
with  him  on  his  concert  tours.  He  wrote  many 
songs  for  Sunday-school  books. 

Meeting  Mr.  Moody,  Major  Whittle,  and  other 
evangelists,  he  himself  became  an  evangelist,  and 
was  remarkably  successful,  especially  with  young 
people.  He  was  on  one  of  these  evangelistic  tours 
with  his  wife  when  both  of  them  were  killed  in  the 
great  railroad  disaster  at  Ashtabula,  O.,  December 
29,  1876.  The  train  was  precipitated  by  the  fall  of 
a  bridge  down  a  ravine  sixty  feet  deep.  The  cars 
caught  fire,  and  100  of  the  passengers  were  killed. 
The  death  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bliss  under  circumstances 
so  tragic  was  a  deep  sorrow  to  the  Christian  world. 
He  and  his  wife  were  greatly  beloved  wherever  they 
were  known,  and  his  songs  were  sung  everywhere, 
and  have  continued  to  be  sung.  Among  the  most 
famous  of  these  are  *'  Hold  the  fort,"  **  Are  your 
windows  open  toward  Jerusalem  ?  "  **  There's  a  light 
in  the  valley,"  ''  Only  remembered  by  what  I  have 
done,"  ''  What  shall  the  harvest  be  ? "  *'  Let  the 
lower  lights  be  burning,"  •'  Whosoever  will,"  *'  Free 
from  the  law,  oh,  happy  condition  I "  "  Only  an 
armor-bearer,"  **  Pull  for  the  shore,"  "  Down  life's 
dark  vale  we  wander,"  **  The  light  of  the  world  is 


226  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Jesus,"  "Almost  persuaded,"  "Hallelujah,  'tis  done," 
"  The  half  was  never  told,"  "  More  holiness  give 
me,"  "  More  to  follow,"  "  Daniel's  Band,"  and  "  I 
will  sing  of  my  Redeemer."  To  this  last  must  be 
added  the  hymn  we  have  specially  chosen,  "  I  am  so 
glad  that  our  Father  in  heaven."  Of  this  hymn 
Major  Whittle,  in  his  life  of  Mr.  Bliss,  writes  as 
follows : — 

"I  think  it  was  in  June,  1870,  that  'Jesus  loves 
me  *  was  written.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bliss  were  at  the 
time  members  of  my  family,  at  43  South  May 
Street,  Chicago.  One  morning  Mrs.  Bliss  came 
down  to  breakfast,  and  said,  as  she  entered  the 
room :  *  Last  evening  Mr.  Bliss  had  a  tune  given 
him  that  I  think  is  going  to  live  and  be  one  of  the 
most  used  that  he  has  written.  I  have  been  singing 
it  all  the  morning  to  myself,  and  cannot  get  it  out 
of  my  mind.'  She  then  sang  over  to  us  the  notes 
of  'Jesus  loves  me.'  The  idea  of  Mr.  Bliss  in  writing 
it  was  that  the  peace  and  comfort  of  a  Christian 
were  not  founded  upon  his  loving  Christ,  but  upon 
Christ's  love  to  him,  and  that  to  occupy  the  mind 
with  Christ's  love  would  produce  love  and  consecra- 
tion in  keeping  with  Rom.  5:5:*  The  love  of  God 
[^o  us]  is  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,  which  is  given  to  us.'  This  view  of  gospel 
truth  was  at  this  time  being  very  preciously  brought 
to  the  souls  of  believers  in  Chicago  by  the  preaching 
of  Moorhouse  and  Mr.  Moody  and  by  the  Dublin 
tracts  and  English  commentaries  upon  gospel  truth, 
which,  through  Mr.  Moody,  began  to  be  circulated 
among  Christians.     How  much  God  has  used  this 


I  Am  So  Glad  That  Our  Father  in  Heaven    227 

little  song  to  lead  sinners  and  fearful,  timid  Christians 
to  '  look  away  to  Jesus '  eternity  alone  can  tell." 

Mr.  Sankey  had  a  beautiful  experience  with  this 
song.  A  little  girl,  a  member  of  his  singing-class, 
lay  dying,  and  as  he  was  talking  with  her  one  day 
she  said,  "  Don't  you  remember  when  you  were 
teaching  us  to  sing,  *  I  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves 
me,'  you  told  us  that  if  we  only  gave  our  hearts  to 
Him  He  would  love  us  ?  and  I  did  give  my  heart  to 
Him."  Mr.  Sankey  added,  ''  What  that  little  dying 
girl  said  to  me  helped  to  cheer  me  on  more  than 
anything  I  had  heard  before,  because  she  was  my 
first  convert." 

A  missionary  of  the  American  Sunday  School 
Union  once  sang  that  song  in  a  meeting  he  was 
conducting  in  a  small  town  in  Missouri,  where  he 
had  just  organized  a  Sunday  school.  At  the  close 
of  the  song  the  missionary  asked  :  **  Are  you  glad  ? 
If  not,  why  not?"  On  this  a  young  man  rushed 
up  to  the  missionary,  threw  his  arms  about  him,  and 
said  :  *'  O,  that  song  !  I  could  not  keep  away  from 
it,  and  it  has  saved  me." 

The  hymn  itself  is  as  follows : — 

I  am  so  glad  that  our  Father  in  heaven 
Tells  of  His  love  in  the  Book  He  has  given ; 
Wonderful  things  in  the  Bible  I  see  ; 
This  is  the  dearest,  that  Jesus  loves  me. 

Chorus. 
I  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves  me, 
Jesus  loves  me,  Jesus  loves  me ; 
I  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves  me, 
Jesus  loves  even  me. 


228  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Though  I  forget  Him  and  wander  away, 
Kindly  He  follows  wherever  I  stray ; 
Back  to  His  dear  loving  arms  would  I  flee, 
When  1  remember  that  Jesus  loves  me. 

O,  if  there's  only  one  song  I  can  sing. 
When  in  His  beauty  I  see  the  great  King, 
This  shall  my  song  in  eternity  be, 
<'  O,  what  a  wonder  that  Jesus  loves  me  1" 


"When  He  Cometh;' 
William  Orcutt  Gushing. 

WILLIAM  ORCUTT  GUSHING,  who  signed 
his  name  to  his  hymns  simply  *'  W.  O.  Gush- 
ing," wrote  a  large  number  of  songs  that  found  wide 
popularity  in  Sunday  school.  He  was  born  in  Hing- 
ham,  Mass.,  December  31,  1823,  and  died  October 
19,  1902. 

Most  of  his  songs  are  of  death  and  heaven.  The 
most  familiar  are,  ''  Down  in  the  valley  with  my 
Saviour  I  would  go,"  '*  O,  safe  to  the  rock  that  is 
higher  than  I,"  "  Ring  the  bells  of  heaven,  there  is 
joy  to-day,"  '*  We  are  watching ;  we  are  waiting," 
and  the  "jewel  song,"  "When  He  cometh,"  which 
is  the  one  specially  before  us. 

He  wrote  the  "  jewel  song  "  when  he  was  a  young 
man,  in  1856,  and  it  was  composed  for  use  in  his 
own  Sunday  school.  George  F.  Root,  the  famous 
composer,  wrote  for  it  a  very  efTective  tune. 

A  minister  once  returning  from  Europe  on  a  Brit- 
ish steamer  visited  the  steerage  and  proposed  a  song 
service  there.  He  started  it  with  this  "  jewel  song." 
Mr.  Root's  melody  was  at  once  caught  up  by  the 
immigrants,  and  they  soon  learned  the  hymn,  which 
was  sung  by  these  men  and  women  of  all  nations 
during  the  rest  of  the  voyage.  When  at  Quebec 
they  took  the  train  for  their  journeys  to  their  new 

229 


230  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

homes  the  song  burst  from  every  car.     Here  are  the 
words  :  — 

When  He  cometh,  when  He  cometh 

To  make  up  His  jewels, 
All  the  jewels,  precious  jewels. 

His  loved  and  His  own  ; 
Like  the  stars  of  the  morning, 

His  bright  crown  adorning, 
They  shall  shine  in  their  beauty, 

Bright  gems  for  His  crown. 

He  will  gather.  He  will  gather 

The  gems  for  His  kingdom, 
All  the  pure  ones,  all  the  bright  ones, 

His  loved  and  His  own. 

Like  the  stars,  etc. 

Little  children,  little  children 

Who  love  their  Redeemer, 
Are  the  jewels,  precious  jewels, 

His  loved  and  His  own. 

Like  the  stars,  etc. 


"  Day  by  Day  the  Manna  Fell.'* 

Josiah   Conder. 

JOSIAH  CONDER,  who  wrote  this  beautiful 
hymn,  was  born  in  London,  September  17,  1789. 
His  father  was  a  bookseller  and  engraver.  When 
the  boy  was  five  years  old  he  was  inoculated  for 
smallpox,  and  in  the  imperfect  state  of  the  practice 
he  lost  his  right  eye.  His  physician  became  inter- 
ested in  him,  and  taught  the  boy.  At  the  age  of 
fifteen  he  had  progressed  so  far  that  he  was  able  to 
enter  his  father's  store  as  his  assistant. 

Conversation  with  the  intelligent  buyers  that  fre- 
quented the  store  led  to  young  Conder's  interest  in 
literature.  He  became  a  well-known  author,  editor, 
and  publisher,  editing  and  owning  The  Eclectic  Re- 
view^ and  editing  a  newspaper.  The  Patriot.  He 
wrote  many  volumes  of  prose,  travel,  biography,  and 
books  on  the  Bible,  and  also  six  volumes  of  poems. 
His  first  volume  of  poems,  "  The  Associate  Min- 
strels," was  written  in  conjunction  with  Ann  and 
Jane  Taylor  and  Eliza  Thomas.  The  latter  became 
his  wife.  The  book  was  successful  to  the  extent  of 
going  into  a  second  edition. 

Mr.  Conder  was  one  of  the  best  of  English  hymn- 
writers.  He  was  a  Congregationalist,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  Watts  and  Doddridge,  wrote  more 
hymns  that  are  in  common  use  than  any  other  Con- 

231 


232  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

gregational  hymn-writer,  about  sixty  of  his  hymns 
being  still  sung.  The  thought  of  his  hymns  is  ele- 
vated, their  language  is  beautiful,  their  style  varied, 
their  themes  substantial,  and  their  theology  broad. 

All  his  life  he  was  compelled  to  struggle  against 
pecuniary  difficulties,  but  maintained  his  hope  and 
trust.  His  hymns  echo  these  trials,  and  echo  also 
the  Christian  confidence  with  which  he  surmounted 
them. 

He  was  a  wise  and  successful  editor  of  hymn- 
books,  making  many  changes  in  the  hymns  that 
preceded  him,  and  always  to  their  advantage.  Of 
his  "  Congregational  Hymn-Book "  90,000  copies 
were  sold  in  the  first  seven  years,  a  remarkable  sale 
for  those  days. 

Mr.  Conder  died  in  London  on  December  27,  1855. 

**  Day  by  day  the  manna  fell  "  appeared  in  1836. 
It  was  based  upon  the  line  of  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
**  Give  us  day  by  day  our  daily  bread."  The  entire 
hymn  is  as  follows  :  — 

Day  by  day  the  manna  fell : 
Oh,  to  learn  this  lesson  well ! 
Still  by  constant  mercy  fed. 
Give  me,  Lord,  my  daily  bread. 
Day  by  day  "  the  promise  reads. 
Daily  strength  for  daily  needs ; 
Cast  foreboding  fears  away. 
Take  the  manna  of  to-day. 

Lord,  my  times  are  in  Thy  hand ; 
All  my  sanguine  hopes  have  planned 
To  Thy  wisdom  I  resign 
And  would  make  Thy  purpose  mine. 


Day  by  Day  the  Manna  Fell  233 

Thou  my  daily  task  shalt  give ; 
Day  by  day  to  Thee  I  live ; 
So  shall  added  years  fulfil 
Not  mine  own — my  Father's  will. 

Fond  ambition,  whisper  not ; 
Happy  is  my  humble  lot. 
Anxious,  busy  cares,  away : 
I'm  provided  for  to-day. 
Oh,  to  live  exempt  from  care 
By  the  energy  of  prayer : 
Strong  in  faith,  with  mind  subdued, 
Yet  elate  with  gratitude ! 


"Shout  the  Glad  Tidings." 
William  Augustus  Muhlenberg, 

THIS  stirring  and  strikingly  beautiful  hymn  was 
written  by  William  Augustus  Muhlenberg,  D.  D. 
Dr.  Muhlenberg  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman  and  the 
grandson  of  the  Muhlenberg  who  was  the  patriarch 
of  the  Lutheran  church  in  America.  He  was  born  in 
Philadelphia,  September  i6,  1796,  and  was  gradu- 
ated in  18 1 4  from  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 
He  became  an  Episcopal  clergyman.  At  one  time 
he  was  principal  of  St.  John's  College,  Long  Island. 
His  greatest  work  was  the  founding,  after  long  toil 
and  courageous  effort,  of  St.  Luke's  Hospital  in  New 
York  City,  which  was  established  in  1859.  He  was 
its  first  pastor  and  superintendent,  and  continued  in 
those  offices  until  his  death,  which  occurred  on 
April  6,  1877. 

Dr.  Muhlenberg  published  a  volume  of  poems  in 
1859.  He  wrote  a  number  of  exceedingly  choice 
hymns,  the  most  famous  being,  **  I  would  not  live 
alway,"  **  Saviour  !  who  Thy  flock  art  feeding,"  and 
"Shout  the  glad  tidings."  The  last-named  hymn 
was  written  for  Bishop  Hobart,  who  wanted  some 
verses  that  could  be  sung  to  the  tune  of  **  Avison," 
which  was  very  popular  as  the  tune  of  Moore's 
"Sound  the  loud  timbrel."  The  entire  hymn  is  as 
follows :  — 

234 


Shout  the  Glad  Tidings  235 

Shout  the  glad  tidings,  exultingly  sing ; 
Jerusalem  triumphs,  Messiah  is  King. 
Zion,  the  marvelous  story  be  telling, 

The  Son  of  the  Highest,  how  lowly  His  birth ; 
The  brightest  archangel  in  glory  excelling, 

He  stoops  to  redeem  thee.  He  reigns  upon  earth. 

Shout  the  glad  tidings,  exultingly  sing ; 

Jerusalem  triumphs,  Messiah  is  King. 

Tell  how  He  cometh ;  from  nation  to  nation, 

The  heart-cheering  news  let  the  earth  echo  round; 
How  free  to  the  faithful  He  offers  salvation ! 

How  His  people  with  joy  everlasting  are  crowned  ! 

Shout  the  glad  tidings,  exultingly  sing ; 
Jerusalem  triumphs,  Messiah  is  King. 
Mortals,  your  homage  be  gratefully  bringing. 

And  sweet  let  the  gladsome  hosanna  arise ; 
Ye  angels,  the  full  hallelujah  be  singing  ; 

One  chorus  resound  through  the  earth  and  the  skies. 


**  Jesus,  Saviour,  Pilot  Me.'* 

Edward  Hopper. 

THE  author  of  this  very  popular  hymn  was  Rev. 
Edward  Hopper,  D.  D.,  who  was  born  in  New 
York  City  in  1818.  His  father  was  a  merchant,  and 
his  mother  was  descended  from  the  heroic  Hugue- 
nots. He  graduated  from  the  University  of  the  City 
of  New  York,  and  followed  this  with  a  course  in 
Union  Theological  Seminary,  from  which  he  gradu- 
ated in  1842. 

For  eleven  years  he  was  pastor  of  a  Presbyterian 
church  in  Sag  Harbor,  Long  Island,  and  then  be- 
came pastor  of  a  sailors'  church  in  New  York  harbor, 
the  Church  of  Sea  and  Land. 

Lafayette  College  gave  him  the  degree  of  doctor 
of  divinity  in  1871.  It  was  in  the  same  year  that 
this  hymn,  "Jesus,  Saviour,  pilot  me,"  was  published 
in  The  Sailors^  Magazine,  and  it  was  immediately 
printed  in  a  hymn-book,  '*  The  Baptist  Praise  Book," 
published  also  in  1871. 

Other  hymns  by  Dr.  Hopper  are,  **  They  pray  the 
best  who  pray  and  watch,"  and  "  Wrecked  and 
struggling  in  mid-ocean." 

The  original  poem,  "Jesus,  Saviour,  pilot  me," 
contained  six  stanzas,  but  Dr.  Hopper  himself  se- 
lected for  use  as  a  hymn  the  first  and  the  last  two 
stanzas,  which  are  all  that  are  ever  sung.  They  are 
as  follows :  — 

236 


Jesus,  Saviour,  Pilot  Me  237 

Jesus,  Saviour,  pilot  me 
Over  life's  tempestuous  sea; 
Unknown  waves  before  me  roll, 
Hiding  rock  and  treacherous  shoal ; 
Chart  and  compass  come  from  Thee  : 
Jesus,  Saviour,  pilot  me. 

As  a  mother  stills  her  child. 
Thou  canst  hush  the  ocean  wild ; 
Boisterous  waves  obey  Thy  will 
When  Thou  say'st  to  them,  *'  Be  still !  " 
Wondrous  Sovereign  of  the  sea, 
Jesus,  Saviour,  pilot  me. 

When  at  last  I  near  the  shore, 
And  the  fearful  breakers  roar 
'Twixt  me  and  the  peaceful  rest, 
Then,  while  leaning  on  Thy  breast, 
May  I  hear  Thee  say  to  me, 
"Fear  not,  I  will  pilot  thee  !  " 


"  Let  Us  with  a  Gladsome  Mind." 
John  Milton, 

THE  author  of  this  hymn  is  more  famous  than 
any  other  writer  whose  work  we  study  in  this 
book,  for  it  is  John  Milton,  the  immortal  author  of 
"  Paradise  Lost."  He  was  born  in  London,  De- 
cember 9,  1608,  and  died  in  the  same  city,  November 
8,  1674.  He  traveled  widely  in  Europe,  wrote  some 
of  his  most  beautiful  poems  when  still  a  young  man, 
and  rose  to  great  influence  in  the  nation,  becoming, 
under  Cromwell  and  his  successor,  Latin  secretary  of 
state.  He  was  engaged  in  these  duties  when  he  be- 
came blind,  and  it  was  in  the  retirement  made  neces- 
sary by  this  affliction  that  he  composed  "  Paradise 
Lost "  and  "  Paradise  Regained." 

Milton  made  metrical  versions  of  nineteen  Psalms, 
only  two  or  three  of  which  are  sung  in  our  day.  Of 
these  the  most  beautiful,  as  I  think,  is  the  thanks- 
giving hymn  which  is  still  one  of  the  chief  gems  of 
our  hymnals. 

It  is  a  version  of  Psalm  136,  and  was  written  in 
1623,  when  Milton  was  only  fifteen  years  old.  The 
original  translates  the  Psalm  very  fully,  with  almost 
as  many  stanzas  as  the  Psalm  has  verses.  The 
editors  of  our  hymn-books  have  been  obliged  to 
make  a  selection,  of  course,  and  they  have  chosen 

238 


Let  Us  with  a  Gladsome  Mind  239 

wisely,  though  it  is  a  pity  to  leave  out  of  the  hymn 
expressions  of  so  great  beauty  as 

<*  And  caused  the  golden-tressed  sun 
All  day  long  his  course  to  run." 

**  The  horned  moon  to  shine  by  night 
Amongst  her  spangled  sisters  bright.'*  , 

'*  He,  with  His  thunder-clasping  hand, 
Smote  the  first-born  of  Egypt  land." 

The  hymn-book  editors  have  been  obHged  to 
make  some  changes  in  what  they  give,  to  adapt 
the  verses  to  singing.  I  follow  these,  in  the  main, 
but  keep  more  closely  to  the  original  than  any  hymn- 
book  of  my  acquaintance. 

Let  us  with  a  gladsome  mind, 
Praise  the  Lord,  for  He  is  kind ; 
For  His  mercies  aye  endure, 
Ever  faithful,  ever  sure. 

Let  us  blaze  His  name  abroad, 
For  of  gods  He  is  the  God ; 
For  His  mercies  aye  endure, 
Ever  faithful,  ever  sure. 

He,  with  all-commanding  might. 
Filled  the  new-made  world  with  light ; 
For  His  mercies  aye  endure. 
Ever  faithful,  ever  sure. 

He  His  chosen  race  did  bless 
In  the  wasteful  wilderness ; 
For  His  mercies  aye  endure, 
Ever  faithful,  ever  sure. 


240  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

He  hath  with  a  piteous  eye, 
Looked  upon  our  misery  ; 
For  His  mercies  aye  endure, 
Ever  faithful,  ever  sure. 

All  things  living  He  doth  feed, 
His  full  hand  supplies  their  need ; 
For  His  mercies  aye  endure. 
Ever  faithful,  ever  sure. 

Let  us  therefore  warble  forth 
His  high  majesty  and  worth  ; 
For  His  mercies  aye  endure, 
Ever  faithful,  ever  sure. 


"We  Give  Thee  Thanks,  O  God,  This 
Day." 

Robert  M.  Offord. 

THE  author  of  this  beautiful  Thanksgiving  hymn 
is  Rev.  Robert  M.  Offord,  LL.  D.  He  was 
born  at  St.  Anstell,  Cornwall,  England,  September 
17,  1846.  His  father  was  a  Baptist  minister,  w^ho  re- 
moved to  London,  dying  there  in  1869.  The  father 
was  an  intimate  friend  of  Rev.  C.  H.  Spurgeon,  and 
the  two  occasionally  filled  each  other's  pulpits. 

Coming  on  a  visit  to  the  United  States,  young 
Offord  earned  his  living  by  literary  work,  and  occa- 
sionally preached,  as  he  had  been  doing  in  England 
under  the  auspices  of  the  London  Evangelistic  So- 
ciety. Later  he  was  regularly  ordained  and  became 
pastor  of  a  church  in  Lodi,  N.  J.,  belonging  to  the 
Reformed  Church  in  America.  At  the  same  time  he 
became  an  editor  of  The  New  York  Observer^  where 
he  served  for  eighteen  years. 

Dr.  Offord  is  living  now  in  Passaic,  N.  J.,  caring 
for  various  commercial  interests,  which  give  him  lit- 
tle leisure  for  preaching. 

Among  the  prime  interests  of  Dr.  Offord  has  been 
the  Fulton  Street  noon  prayer  meeting,  which  he  has 
attended  between  3,000  and  4,000  times,  for  several 
years  making  a  daily  report  for  one  journal  and  a 
weekly  report  for  two  or  three  others. 

241 


242  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Among  Dr.  Offord's  books  is  a  unique  collection 
of  comments  on  Bible  texts  by  366  different  ministers, 
one  for  every  day  of  the  year.  This  is  entitled 
**  Life's  Golden  Lamp."  Dr.  Offord  also  edited  the 
life  of  Jerry  McAuley,  and  twenty  volumes  of  Dr. 
Talmage's  sermons. 

Amid  his  varied  labors  Dr.  Offord  has  frequently 
found  rest  and  comfort  in  writing  hymns,  most  of 
which  were  published  in  The  New  York  Observer. 
More  than  eighty  of  these  he  gathered  into  a  little 
book  entitled  **  Heart  Song,"  copyrighted  in  1895. 
In  his  introduction  Dr.  Theodore  L.  Cuyler  said, 
**  Mr.  Ofiord  writes  in  the  same  vein  with  the  brothers 
Bonar." 

The  hymn  by  which  Dr.  Offord  is  best  known  was 
first  published  in  The  New  York  Observery  and  then 
in  the  ''  Heart  Song  "  collection. 

"  I  have  a  great  fondness  for  hymns,"  Dr.  Offord 
writes  me.  **  Who  will  say  that  we  shall  not  sing 
new  versions  of  *  Rock  of  Ages '  and  many  other 
grand  old  earth  melodies  up  in  heaven  ?  " 

Here  is  Dr.  Offord's  Thanksgiving  hymn  : — 


We  give  Thee  thanks,  O  God,  this  day, 

For  mercies  never  failing  : 
Thy  love  hath  brought  us  on  our  way 

For  all  our  wants  availing. 

No  less  that  love  hath  met  our  need 
Than  when  the  manna  falling 

Did  day  by  day  Thy  people  feed, 
To  love  and  praises  calling. 


We  Give  Thee  Thanks,  O  God,  This  Day     243 

The  smitten  rock  poured  forth  of  old 

Its  crystal  waters  gleaming ; 
And  still  the  same  glad  tale  is  told, 

For  us  the  floods  are  streaming. 

The  seasons  come,  the  seasons  go, 

But  each  shall  find  us  singing ; 
For  each  shall  greet  us,  well  we  know, 

New  favors  from  Thee  bringing. 

Through  endless  years  Thou  art  the  same, 

Thy  mercy  changes  never; 
Then  blessed  be  Thy  mighty  name 

Forever  and  forever. 


"Break  Thou  the  Bread  of  Life." 

Mary  Artemisia  Lathbury, 

MISS  MARY  ARTEMISIA  LATHBURY,  the 
author  of  this  beautiful  hymn,  was  born  in 
Manchester,  N.  Y.,  August  lo,  1841,  the  daughter  of 
a  Methodist  minister.  After  leaving  school  she 
taught  art  for  a  while,  and  then  became  an  editor, 
but  after  1874  she  devoted  herself  to  general  literary 
work  and  to  drawing  those  exquisite  pictures  for 
which  she  was  famous.     She  died  in  1913. 

She  delighted  especially  to  draw  children,  and  the 
best  periodicals  for  young  folks,  including  St.  Nich- 
olas, were  glad  to  print  the  products  of  her  pencil. 
They  were  always  delicately  lovely,  and  whenever 
you  saw  **  M.  A.  L."  in  a  corner  of  a  drawing  you 
might  be  sure  that  it  was  one  you  would  remember 
and  want  to  return  to  again  and  again.  Very  serious 
difficulty  with  her  eyes  made  her  success  as  an  artist 
doubly  notable. 

Miss  Lathbury  wrote  books  of  her  own,  and  illus- 
trated many  books  by  other  writers. 

She  was  a  woman  of  great  beauty  of  character, 
and  every  one  loved  her  that  came  to  know  her. 
Her  expressive  face  and  gentle,  modest  bearing  had 
a  peculiar  charm.  She  was  intensely  religious,  and 
her  personal  devoutness  is  shown  in  her  poems.  She 
spent  herself  freely  for  others,  and  many  owe  much 
to  her  loving  ministries. 

244 


Break  Thou  the  Bread  of  Life  245 

Two  of  her  hymns  are  known  and  loved  every- 
where. Both  of  these  were  written  for  Chautauqua, 
where  they  have  become  a  part  of  the  Hfe  of  the  in- 
stitution, so  that  Miss  Lathbury  was  known  as  the 
*'  lyrist  of  Chautauqua."  One  of  these  is  the  sweet 
evening  hymn,  '*  Day  is  dying  in  the  west,"  written 
at  the  request  of  Bishop  Vincent  in  the  summer  of 
1880.  The  other — our  present  hymn — was  written 
in  the  same  year,  for  the  Chautauqua  Literary  and 
Scientific  Circle,  and  Miss  Lathbury  called  it  ''A 
Study  Song."  Its  lovely  reference  to  the  Sea  of 
Galilee  is  made  doubly  interesting  when  one  remem- 
bers that  the  hymn  was  written  beside  the  beautiful 
Lake  Chautauqua. 

The  hymn,  which  is  very  short,  is  as  follows  : — 

Break  Thou  the  bread  of  life, 

Dear  Lord,  to  me. 
As  Thou  didst  break  the  loaves 

Beside  the  sea ; 
Beyond  the  sacred  page 

I  seek  Thee,  Lord  ; 
My  spirit  pants  for  Thee, 

O  Living  Word  I 

Bless  Thou  the  truth,  dear  Lord, 

To  me — to  me — 
As  Thou  didst  bless  the  bread 

By  Galilee ; 
Then  shall  all  bondage  cease, 

All  fetters  fall ; 
And  I  shall  find  my  peace, 

My  All-in-All ! 


"  Still,  Still  with  Thee/' 

Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 

MRS.  HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE  was, 
with  the  exception  of  Queen  Victoria,  the 
most  famous  woman  of  the  last  half  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  She  was  born  in  Litchfield,  Conn., 
June  14,  1812.  Her  father  was  the  famous  clergy- 
man, Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  and  one  of  her  brothers 
was  the  still  more  famous  Henry  Ward  Beecher. 
Indeed,  all  her  many  brothers  and  sisters  were  of 
conspicuous  ability,  and  the  family  was  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

When  a  young  woman,  Harriet  Beecher  studied 
and  taught  in  her  sister  Catherine's  school  in  Hart- 
ford. In  1832  she  went  to  Cincinnati  with  her 
father,  who  had  become  president  of  Lane  Theolog- 
ical Seminary,  and  there  she  married  a  member  of 
the  Seminary's  teaching  force,  Prof.  Calvin  E.  Stowe, 
a  man  of  great  ability.  While  in  Cincinnati  she 
often  visited  the  slave  States,  gained  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  conditions  there,  and  witnessed  the 
escapes  of  many  slaves  to  Canada,  in  which  her 
family  aided. 

Two  removals  followed,  as  her  husband  became 
professor  first  in  Bowdoin  College  and  then  in 
Andover  Theological  Seminary.  She  died  in  Hart- 
ford, July  I,  1896. 

Mrs.  Stowe's  great  work,  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,'* 

246 


Still,  Still  with  Thee  247 

was  almost  her  first.  It  was  published  as  a  serial  in 
the  Washington  National  Era  in  1851  and  1852, 
and  in  the  latter  year  it  appeared  as  a  book,  reach- 
ing, by  the  end  of  the  year,  on  both  sides  of  the 
water,  the  sale  of  more  than  a  million  copies.  No 
other  book,  except  Dr.  Sheldon's  *'  In  His  Steps," 
has  ever  won  such  a  success.  It  has  been  translated 
into  more  than  twenty  languages,  and  it  had  a  pow- 
erful influence  in  bringing  about  the  Civil  War. 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  an  industrious  writer,  and  her 
books  enter  the  fields  of  romance,  biography,  essays, 
travel,  and  poetry.  Her  one  volume  of  verse,  **  Re- 
ligious Poems,"  was  published  in  1865. 

She  was  introduced  as  a  hymn-writer  by  Henry 
Ward  Beecher,  who  included  three  of  her  hymns  in 
the  "  Plymouth  Collection,"  which  he  edited  in  1855. 
Those  three  were  '*  That  mystic  word  of  Thine,  O 
sovereign  Lord  I "  "  When  winds  are  raging  o'er  the 
upper  ocean,"  and  "  Still,  still  with  Thee."  Mr. 
Sankey's  famous  song,  **  Knocking,  knocking,  who 
is  there  ?  "  was  adapted  from  another  piece  in  that 
book. 

The  title  of  the  hymn  we  print  below  was  first 
given  as  "  Resting  in  God."  It  is  based  upon  the 
words  in  Ps.  139  :  18 :  ''  When  I  awake,  I  am  still 
with  thee."  I  give  the  entire  hymn  of  six  stanzas, 
though  the  third  and  fifth  are  often  omitted. 


Still,  still  with  Thee,  when  purple  morning  breaketh, 
When  the  bird  waketh  and  the  shadows  flee ; 

Fairer  than  morning,  lovelier  than  the  daylight, 
Dawns  the  sweet  consciousness,  /  am  with  Thee  / 


248  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Alone  with  Thee  !  amid  the  mystic  shadows, 
The  solemn  hush  of  nature  newly  born  ; 

Alone  with  Thee  in  breathless  adoration, 
In  the  calm  dew  and  freshness  of  the  morn. 

As  in  the  dawning,  o'er  the  waveless  ocean, 
The  image  of  the  morning  star  doth  rest. 

So,  in  this  stillness.  Thou  beholdest  only 
Thine  image  in  the  waters  of  my  breast. 

Still,  still  with  Thee  !     As  to  each  new-born  morning 
A  fresh  and  solemn  splendor  still  is  given. 

So  doth  this  blessed  consciousness,  awaking, 

Breathe  each  new  day  nearness  to  Thee  and  heaven. 

When  sinks  the  soul,  subdued  by  toil,  to  slumber, 
Its  closing  eye  looks  up  to  Thee  in  prayer. 

Sweet  the  repose  beneath  Thy  wings  o'ershading. 
But  sweeter  still  to  wake  and  find  Thee  there. 

So  shall  it  be  at  last,  in  that  bright  morning, 
When  the  soul  waketh,  and  life's  shadows  flee ; 

Oh  !  in  that  hour,  fairer  than  daylight  dawning. 
Shall  rise  the  glorious  thought — /  am  with  Thee. 


"  Come,  Ye  Thankful  People,  Come.'* 
Henry  Alford, 

ONE  of  the  finest  of  harvest  hymns  is  that 
written  by  Dean  Alford,  **  Come,  ye  thankful 
people,  come." 

Henry  Alford  was  born  in  London,  October  7, 
1 8 10.  His  father  was  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of 
England,  and  he  followed  in  his  father's  footsteps. 
When  the  lad  was  sixteen  years  old,  he  wrote  these 
noble  words  upon  the  fly-leaf  of  his  Bible :  **  I  do 
this  day,  in  the  presence  of  God  and  my  own  soul, 
renew  my  covenant  with  God,  and  solemnly  deter- 
mine henceforth  to  become  His,  and  to  do  His  work 
as  far  as  in  me  lies." 

He  was  graduated  from  Trinity  College,  Cam- 
bridge University,  and  became  a  popular  London 
preacher.  In  1857  he  was  promoted  to  the  position 
of  dean  of  Canterbury,  and  held  that  important  post 
till  his  death  fourteen  years  later,  January  12,  1871. 

Dean  Alford's  greatest  work  was  a  magnificent 
edition  of  the  Greek  Testament.  He  spent  upon  it 
twenty  years  of  hard  labor,  and  produced  a  work 
which  was  the  admiration  of  scholars.  He  wrote 
many  hymns.  Indeed,  he  prepared  a  hymn-book  to 
which  he  contributed  no  fewer  than  fifty-five  hymns 
of  his  own.  Not  many  of  his  hymns,  however,  have 
come  into  common  use.     Of  these,  one  of  the  finest 

249 


250  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

is  **  Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand."  Another  is 
*'  Forward  be  our  watchword."  But  of  all  his  hymns 
the  most  popular  is  **  Come,  ye  thankful  people, 
come." 

This  harvest  hymn  first  appeared  in  1844,  with 
the  title,  **  After  Harvest."  It  was  originally  accom- 
panied by  the  text,  "  He  that  goeth  forth  and  weepeth, 
bearing  precious  seed,  shall  doubtless  come  again 
with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  with  him" 
(Ps.  126:6).  The  hymn  originally  contained  seven 
stanzas,  but  only  the  following  four  are  printed  in 
our  hymn-books  : — 

Come,  ye  thankful  people,  come, 
Raise  the  song  of  Harvest- Home  ! 
All  is  safely  gathered  in. 
Ere  the  winter  storms  begin  : 
God,  our  Maker,  doth  provide 
For  our  wants  to  be  supplied ; 
Come  to  God's  own  temple,  come. 
Raise  the  song  of  Harvest-Home  ! 

All  the  world  is  God's  own  field. 
Fruit  unto  His  praise  to  yield ; 
Wheat  and  tares  together  sown, 
Unto  joy  or  sorrow  grown  : 
First  the  blade,  and  then  the  ear. 
Then  the  full  corn  shall  appear : 
Lord  of  harvest,  grant  that  we 
Wholesome  grain  and  pure  may  be. 

For  the  Lord  our  God  shall  come, 
And  shall  take  His  harvest  home ; 
From  His  field  shall  in  that  day 
All  offences  purge  away ; 


Come,  Ye  Thankful  People,  Come  251 

Give  His  angels  charge  at  last 
In  the  fire  the  tares  to  cast, 
But  the  fruitful  ears  to  store 
In  His  garner  evermore. 

Even  so.  Lord,  quickly  come 
To  Thy  final  Harvest-Home  ! 
Gather  Thou  Thy  people  in. 
Free  from  sorrow,  free  from  sin ; 
There  for  ever  purified. 
In  Thy  presence  to  abide : 
Come,  with  all  Thine  angels,  come, 
Raise  the  glorious  Harvest- Home  I 


"  Softly  Now  the  Light  of  Day/' 
George  Washington  Doane. 

THE  writer  of  this  beautiful  evening  hymn  was 
George  Washington  Doane,  who  was  born  in 
Trenton,  N.  J.,  May  27,  1799,  and  died  in  Burlington, 
N.  J.,  April  27,  1859.  After  graduating  from  Union 
College  he  became  assistant  in  Trinity  Church,  New 
York,  then  professor  of  rhetoric  and  belles-lettres  in 
Trinity  College,  Hartford,  and  then  rector  of  Trinity 
Church,  Boston,  the  church  afterward  made  so 
famous  by  Phillips  Brooks.  In  1832  he  was  made 
bishop  of  New  Jersey,  and  became  one  of  the  leading 
bishops  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  Among  his  works 
was  the  founding  of  Burlington  College,  and  the 
popularizing  in  America  of  Keble's  ''Christian  Year." 
His  son  was  the  eminent  William  C.  Doane,  D.  D., 
Bishop  of  Albany. 

Bishop  Doane's  volume  of  poems,  issued  in  1824, 
is  called  "  Songs  by  the  Way,"  and  contains  many 
poems  of  great  beauty  and  power,  among  them  the 
hymn  printed  below,  and  also  the  noble  hymn, 
**  Thou  art  the  way ;  to  Thee  alone."  Another 
great  hymn  by  Bishop  Doane  is  "  Fling  out  the 
banner ;  let  it  float,"  one  of  the  hnest  of  our  mission- 
ary hymns.  Bishop  Doane  also  wrote  the  very 
popular  song,  **  What  is  it,  mother  ?  The  lark,  my 
child." 

252 


Softly  Now  the  Light  of  Day  253 

Here  is  the  famous  evening  hymn  : — 

Softly  now  the  light  of  day 
Fades  upon  my  sight  away ; 
Free  from  care,  from  labor  free, 
Lord,  I  would  commune  with  Thee. 


Thou,  whose  all-pervading  eye 
Naught  escapes,  without,  within, 
Pardon  each  infirmity, 
Open  fault,  and  secret  sin. 

Soon,  for  me,  the  light  of  day 
Shall  forever  pass  away ; 
Then,  from  sin  and  sorrow  free, 
Take  me,  Lord,  to  dwell  with  Thee. 

Thou  who,  sinless,  yet  hast  known 
All  of  man's  infirmity. 
Then  from  Thine  eternal  throne, 
Jesus,  look  with  pitying  eye. 


"Lord!  While  for  All  Mankind  We  Pray." 

John  Reynell  Wreford, 

THIS  noble,  patriotic  hymn  was  written  by  an 
English  Presbyterian  clergyman,  Rev.  John 
Reynell  Wreford,  D.  D.  He  was  born  at  Barnstable 
in  Devonshire,  England,  December  12,  1800,  and 
was  educated  at  Manchester  College  in  York.  He 
became  a  preacher  in  Birmingham,  but  after  five 
years'  service  he  lost  his  voice  to  such  an  extent 
that  he  had  to  leave  the  ministry  and  become  a 
teacher.     He  died  in  London,  July  2,  1881. 

Dr.  Wreford  wrote  many  hymns,  but  the  one 
before  us  is  by  far  the  best-known  and  the  most 
widely  used.  About  the  time  of  Queen  Victoria's 
coronation,  in  1837,  it  was  composed  as  a  national 
hymn  and  was  published  that  year  in  a  volume  of 
poems  which  he  called  **  Lays  of  Loyaltyc"  The 
hymn  went  at  once  into  the  hymn-books,  both  in 
England  and  in  America,  and  is  still  a  great  favorite. 
Here  are  its  five  stanzas : — 

Lord  !  while  for  all  mankind  we  pray, 

Of  every  clime  and  coast. 
Oh,  hear  us  for  our  native  land, 

The  land  we  love  the  most. 

Oh,  guard  our  shores  from  every  foe, 

With  peace  our  borders  bless. 
With  prosperous  times  our  cities  crown, 

Our  fields  with  plenteousness. 
254 


Lord!  While  for  All  Mankind  We  Pray       255 

Unite  us  in  the  sacred  love 

Of  knowledge,  truth,  and  Thee, 
And  let  our  hills  and  valleys  shout 

The  songs  of  liberty. 

Here  may  religion,  pure  and  mild, 

Smile  on  our  Sabbath  hours ; 
And  piety  and  virtue  bless 

The  home  of  us  and  ours. 

Lord  of  the  nations,  thus  to  Thee 

Our  country  we  commend  ; 
Be  Thou  her  refuge  and  her  trust, 

Her  everlasting  friend. 


"  Come,  Ye  Disconsolate." 

Thomas  Moore. 

THOMAS  MOORE,  who  wrote  the  beautiful 
hymn  we  are  to  study,  was  one  of  the  strangest 
of  all  men  to  write  hymns.  He  was  an  Irishman,  a 
Roman  Catholic,  born  in  Dublin,  May  28,  1779.  He 
was  educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  started 
to  study  law  in  London,  but  his  poetical  success  de- 
cided him  to  make  literature  his  life-work.  This  he 
did,  with  one  exception.  In  1804  he  went  to  Ber- 
muda as  a  government  official,  but  the  work  was 
very  distasteful  to  him,  so  he  put  it  into  the  hands 
of  a  deputy,  traveled  in  America,  and  returned  to 
England.  The  deputy,  however,  ran  away  with  the 
proceeds  of  a  ship  and  cargo,  and  Moore  was  legally 
liable  for  thirty  thousand  dollars ! 

The  poet  was  a  little  man,  but  he  was  full  of  cour- 
age. At  one  time  when  Jeffrey,  the  famous  critic, 
was  harsh  with  his  poems,  Moore  challenged  him  to 
a  duel.  The  poHce  broke  in  just  in  time,  and  it  was 
discovered  that  one  of  the  pistols  had  no  bullet  in 
it !  Jeffrey  and  Moore  became  fast  friends.  Byron 
wrote  in  ridicule  of  this  duel,  and  Moore  sent  him  a 
challenge,  but  no  duel  followed,  and  the  two  poets 
became  life-long  friends.  Such  results  certainly  do 
not  usually  follow  from  challenges  to  duels ! 

Moore's  poems  became  immensely  popular,  and 

256 


Come,  Ye  Disconsolate  257 

the  poet  received  prices  for  them  that  were  far  in 
excess  of  what  had  ever  before  been  paid  for  literary 
work.  His  long  poem,  *'  Lalla  Rookh,"  brought  him 
$15,000  before  a  copy  was  sold.  Among  his  other 
popular  works  were  his  **  Irish  Melodies,"  his  **  Na- 
tional Airs,"  and  his  "  Ballads  and  Songs,"  contain- 
ing such  famous  pieces  as  "Go  Where  Glory  Waits 
Thee,"  "The  Harp  That  Once  Through  Tara's 
Halls,"  "  Believe  Me,  if  All  These  Endearing  Young 
Charms,"  "  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer,"  "  Those 
Evening  Bells,"  and  "Oft  in  the  Stilly  Night." 

Moore  was  a  good  son,  and  a  loving  husband  to 
his  admirable  wife.  He  was  a  warm  and  true  friend. 
The  last  three  years  of  his  life  were  sad  ones,  for  he 
lost  his  mental  powers  and  required  his  wife's  con- 
stant care.  He  died  in  his  seventy-third  year,  Feb- 
ruary 26,  1852. 

He  wrote  thirty-two  hymns,  all  contained  in  one 
collection  of  "  Sacred  Songs,"  which  were  published 
in  1 8 16.  In  this  set  of  poems  are  some  that  have 
become  very  famous  :  "  This  World  is  All  a  Fleeting 
Show,"  "  The  Bird  Let  Loose  in  Eastern  Skies," 
"  Sound  the  Loud  Timbrel  o'er  Egypt's  Dark  Sea," 
and  "  Thou  Art,  O  God,  the  Life  and  Light."  Among 
the  greatest  of  these  favorites  is  the  hymn,  "  Come, 
Ye  Disconsolate."  Here  is  the  way  Moore  wrote 
it:— 


Come,  ye  disconsolate,  where'er  ye  languish  ; 

Conne,  at  the  shrine  of  God  fervently  kneel ; 
Here  bring  your  wounded  hearts  ;  here  tell  your  anguish  — 

Earth  has  no  sorrow  that  heaven  cannot  heal. 


258  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Joy  of  the  desolate,  light  of  the  straying, 

Hope,  when  all  others  die,  fadeless  and  pure ; 

Here  speaks  the  Comforter,  in  God's  name  saying, 
*♦  Earth  has  no  sorrow  that  heaven  cannot  cure." 

Come,  ask  the  infidel  what  boon  he  brings  us. 
What  charm  for  aching  hearts  he  can  reveal. 

Sweet  is  that  heavenly  promise  Hope  sings  us  — 
"Earth  has  no  sorrow  that  God  cannot  heal." 

Dr.  Thomas  Hastings  changed  the  second  line  of 
the  first  stanza  to  read,  **  Come  to  the  mercy-seat, 
fervently  kneel."  The  second  stanza  he  changed  to 
read  : — 

Joy  of  the  comfortless,  light  of  the  straying, 
Hope  of  the  penitent,  fadeless  and  pure  ; 

Here  speaks  the  Comforter,  tenderly  saying, 

''  Earth  has  no  sorrow  that  heaven  cannot  cure." 

The  third  stanza  was  so  changed  by  Dr.  Hastings 
as  hardly  to  be  recognized  : — 

Here  see  the  bread  of  life ;  see  waters  flowing 
Forth  from  the  throne  of  God,  pure  from  above ; 

Come  to  the  feast  of  love ;  come,  ever  knowing 
Earth  hath  no  sorrow  but  heaven  can  remove. 

These  changes  introduced  by  Dr.  Hastings  are  to 
be  found  in  all  our  hymn-books.  Some  of  them  are 
improvements,  some  are  the  reverse  ;  but  as  a  whole 
the  hymn  has  gained  in  singing  qualities  and  in 
thought  because  of  them. 


"Oh,  Worship  the  King,  All-glorious  Above." 

Robert  Grant. 

SIR  ROBERT  GRANT,  who  wrote  this  hymn, 
was  born  in  the  county  of  Inverness,  Scotland, 
in  1785,  and  his  father  was  at  one  time  a  member  of 
Parliament  and  a  director  of  the  famous  East  India 
Company.  The  boy  followed  in  his  father's  foot- 
steps, for,  after  an  education  at  Cambridge  Univer- 
sity, he  himself  became,  in  1826,  member  of  Parlia- 
ment for  Inverness,  and  in  1834  he  became  governor 
of  Bombay.  He  died  at  Dapoorie  in  western  India, 
July  9,  1838.  It  was  in  India  that  he  wrote  his  two 
books  on  that  country,  and  other  works.  It  is  of 
interest  that,  while  he  was  a  member  of  Parliament, 
the  historian,  Macaulay,  made  his  first  speech  in 
Parliament  in  support  of  Sir  Robert  Grant's  bill  for 
giving  some  of  their  rights  to  the  Jews. 

Sir  Robert  wrote  twelve  hymns  and  other  poems, 
which  were  published  in  a  little  book,  after  his 
death,  by  his  brother  Charles.  Of  these  the  most 
famous  and  beautiful  is  the  one  we  have  chosen  ; 
but  another  noble  hymn  by  Sir  Robert  Grant  is, 
"  When  gathering  clouds  around  I  view,"  and  an- 
other begins, 

'<  Saviour  !  when  in  dust  to  Thee 
Low  we  bow  the  adoring  knee." 
259 


26o  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

"  Oh,  worship  the  King,  all-glorious  above,"  is  a 
versification  of  Psalm  104.  Only  four  stanzas  are 
usually  sung,  but  we  give  six :  — 

Oh,  worship  the  King,  all-glorious  above ; 
Oh,  gratefully  sing  His  power  and  His  love ; 
Our  shield  and  defender,  the  Ancient  of  Days, 
Pavilioned  in  splendor,  and  girded  with  praise. 

Oh,  tell  of  His  might,  oh,  sing  of  His  grace  I 
Whose  robe  is  the  light,  whose  canopy,  space. 
His  chariots  of  wrath  the  deep  thunder-clouds  form, 
And  dark  is  His  path  on  the  wings  of  the  storm. 

The  earth,  with  its  store  of  wonders  untold, 
Almighty,  Thy  power  hath  founded  of  old ; 
Hath  'stablished  it  fast  by  a  changeless  decree. 
And  round  it  hath  cast,  like  a  mantle,  the  sea. 

Thy  bountiful  care  what  tongue  can  recite  ? 
It  breathes  in  the  air,  it  shines  in  the  light. 
It  streams  from  the  hills,  it  descends  to  the  plain. 
And  sweetly  distils  in  the  dew  and  the  rain. 

Frail  children  of  dust,  and  feeble  as  frail. 
In  Thee  do  we  trust,  nor  find  Thee  to  fail. 
Thy  mercies  how  tender  !  how  firm  to  the  end  ! 
Our  maker,  defender,  Redeemer,  and  friend  ! 

O  measureless  Might  1  ineffable  Love ! 
While  angels  delight  to  hymn  Thee  above. 
The  humbler  creation,  though  feeble  their  lays, 
With  true  adoration  shall  lisp  to  Thy  praise. 


"We  Thank  Thee,  Lord,  for  This 

Fair  Earth." 

George  Edward  Lynch  Cotton, 

THIS  beautiful  Thanksgiving  hymn  was  written 
by  George  Edward  Lynch  Cotton,  D.  D.,  an 
English  clergyman,  and  it  is  the  only  one  of  his 
hymns  that  has  come  into  common  use. 

He  was  born  at  Chester,  England,  October  29, 
1813.  His  father,  Captain  Thomas  Cotton,  was 
killed  in  war  on  November  13  of  the  same  year. 

Young  Cotton  was  educated  at  the  Cambridge 
University,  Trinity  College,  and  graduated  in  1836. 
At  once  he  became  assistant  master  in  the  famous 
school  of  Rugby,  where  Tom  Brown  of  the  well- 
known  story  went  to  school. 

In  1852  he  became  head  master  of  Marlborough 
College.  In  1858  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Calcutta, 
succeeding  Dr.  Daniel  Wilson  in  this  post  made 
famous  by  the  life  of  the  consecrated  Bishop  Heber, 
who  wrote  so  many  beautiful  hymns. 

Bishop  Cotton's  life  came  to  a  tragic  end  on 
October  6,  1866.  He  was  drowned  at  Koshtea 
while  disembarking  from  a  steamer. 

This  Thanksgiving  hymn  was  published  in  1856 
in  **  Hymns  for  Use  in  the  Chapel  of  Marlborough 
College,"  and  appeared  in  four  stanzas  of  four  lines 
each,  as  follows  :  — 

261 


262  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

We  thank  Thee,  Lord,  for  this  fair  earth, 
The  glittering  sky,  the  silver  sea; 

For  all  their  beauty,  all  their  worth, 
Their  light  and  glory,  come  from  Thee. 

Thine  are  the  flowers  that  clothe  the  ground, 
The  trees  that  wave  their  arms  above, 

The  hills  that  gird  our  dwellings  round. 
As  Thou  dost  gird  Thine  own  with  love. 

Yet  teach  us  still  how  far  more  fair, 
Thou  glorious  Father,  in  Thy  sight 

Is  one  pure  deed,  one  holy  prayer. 

One  heart  that  owns  Thy  Spirit's  might. 

So  while  we  gaze  with  thoughtful  eye 
On  all  the  gifts  Thy  love  has  given, 

Help  us  in  Thee  to  live  and  die. 

By  Thee  to  rise  from  earth  to  heaven. 


"Once  in  Royal  David's  City." 

Cecil  Frances  Alexander, 

THIS  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  Christmas 
hymns.  It  was  written  by  Mrs.  Cecil  Frances 
Alexander,  who  was  born  in  County  Tyrone,  Ireland, 
in  1823.  Her  father  was  Major  John  Humphreys. 
In  1850  she  was  married  to  Rt.  Rev.  William  Alex- 
ander, Bishop  of  Derry  and  Raphoe,  now  Archbishop 
of  Armagh  and  Primate  of  all  Ireland. 

Mrs.  Alexander  wrote  nearly  four  hundred  hymns 
and  poems,  contained  in  more  than  eight  volumes. 
Nearly  all  of  her  hymns  were  written  for  children. 
As  would  be  suited  to  her  audience,  her  hymns  are 
exceedingly  simple  in  their  language,  and  yet  she 
treats,  and  treats  adequately,  the  most  profound 
truths  of  religion. 

Her  most  famous  religious  poem  is  *'  The  Burial 
of  Moses,"  a  very  noble  picture  of  that  mysterious 
scene.  Among  her  hymns  the  best  known  is  **  There 
is  a  green  hill  far  away."  Another  famous  hymn 
from  her  pen  is  ''Jesus  calls  us  o'er  the  tumult." 
Another  begins  with  the  line,  **  All  things  bright  and 
beautiful." 

The  Christmas  hymn,  "  Once  in  royal  David's 
city,"  was  printed  in  1848  as  a  part  of  the  volume, 
"  Hymns  for  Little  Children."     It  is  as  follows  :  — 

263 


264  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Once  in  royal  David's  city 

Stood  a  lowly  cattle-shed, 
Where  a  mother  laid  her  baby 

In  a  manger  for  His  bed : 
Mary  was  that  mother  mild, 
Jesus  Christ  her  little  child. 

He  came  down  to  earth  from  heaven 
Who  is  God  and  Lord  of  all, 

And  His  shelter  was  a  stable. 
And  His  cradle  was  a  stall ; 

With  the  lowly,  poor,  and  mean, 

Lived  on  earth  our  Saviour  then. 

And,  through  all  His  wondrous  childhood, 
He  would  honor  and  obey, 

Love  and  watch  the  lowly  maiden 
In  whose  gentle  arms  He  lay : 

Christian  children  all  must  be 

Mild,  obedient,  good  as  He. 

Oh,  our  eyes  at  last  shall  see  Him, 
Through  His  own  redeeming  love, 

For  that  child  so  dear  and  gentle 
Is  our  God  in  heaven  above; 

And  He  leads  His  children  on 

To  the  place  where  He  is  gone. 

Not  in  that  poor  lowly  stable. 
With  the  oxen  standing  by. 

We  shall  see  Him ;  but  in  heaven, 
Set  at  God's  right  hand  on  high ; 

When  like  stars  His  children  crowned 

All  in  white  shall  wait  around. 


"While  Shepherds  Watched  Their  Flocks 
by  Night." 
Nahum  Tate, 

NAHUM  TATE,  who  wrote  this  hymn,  was  the 
son  of  Faithful  Tate,  an  Irish  clergyman,  who 
himself  was  a  little  of  a  poet.  Our  hymn-writer  was 
born  in  Dublin  in  1652,  became  a  friend  and  literary 
associate  of  the  great  poet  Dryden,  and  succeeded 
Shadwell  as  poet-laureate  of  England,  a  post  to  which 
he  was  appointed  by  King  William  III.  Among  his 
poems  are  a  birthday  ode  for  George  I.  He  is  said 
to  have  been  a  drunkard  and  a  spendthrift.  He  died 
as  an  officer  of  the  Royal  Mint,  in  London,  17 15. 

Before  Tate's  day,  for  a  century  and  a  half,  the 
English  churches  had  been  singing  a  very  inferior 
version  of  the  Psalms  by  Sternhold  and  Hopkins. 
With  his  friend.  Dr.  Nicholas  Brady,  another  Irish- 
man, Nahum  Tate  wrote  a  version  of  the  Psalms 
which  obtained  royal  favor,  and  was  finally,  though 
after  some  opposition,  adopted  by  the  churches  and 
known  as  the  "  new  version."  It  was  published  in 
1696,  and  the  hymns  it  contains,  so  far  as  they  are 
still  in  use,  must  be  referred  to  as  by  "  Tate  and 
Brady,"  since  it  is  not  known  who  wrote  the  indi- 
vidual pieces. 

In    1703,   however,  a  supplement  was  published 

265 


266  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

which  is  known  to  have  been  written  by  Tate.     This 
supplement  contained  the  famous  Christmas  hymn : — 

While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night, 

All  seated  on  the  ground, 
The  angel  of  the  Lord  came  down, 
And  glory  shone  around. 
**  Fear  not,"  said  he — for  mighty  dread 

Had  seized  their  troubled  mind  — 
•*  Glad  tidings  of  great  joy  I  bring, 
To  you  and  all  mankind. 

**  To  you,  in  David's  town  this  day, 

Is  born  of  David's  line 
The  Saviour,  who  is  Christ,  the  Lord, 

And  this  shall  be  the  sign  :  — 
The  heavenly  babe  you  there  shall  find 

To  human  view  displayed, 
All  meanly  wrapped  in  swathing  bands, 

And  in  a  manger  laid." 

Thus  spake  the  seraph — and  forthwith 

Appeared  a  shining  throng 
Of  angels,  praising  God,  who  thus 

Addressed  their  joyful  song  : 
<<  All  glory  be  to  God  on  high. 

And  to  the  earth  be  peace ; 
Good-will  henceforth  from  heaven  to  men 

Begin,  and  never  cease  !  " 


"  Great  God  !  We  Sing  Thy  Mighty  Hand." 

Philip  Doddridge. 

THIS  hymn  is  by  one  of  the  very  greatest  of 
English  hymn-writers,  Rev.  Philip  Doddridge, 
D.  D.,  who  was  born  in  London,  June  26,  1702.  His 
father  was  an  oil-merchant.  Philip  was  the  last  of 
twenty  children,  and  at  his  birth  he  was  so  feeble 
that  he  was  given  up  to  die ;  indeed,  all  through  his 
life  his  health  was  very  delicate.  Both  of  his  parents 
were  pious  people,  and  his  mother  used  to  teach  him 
Bible  history  from  some  Dutch  tiles  that  were  on  the 
walls  of  her  room. 

The  lad  was  left  an  orphan  while  he  was  quite 
young,  but  kind  friends  cared  for  him  and  sent  him 
to  school.  He  learned  so  well  that  the  Duchess  of 
Bedford  became  interested  in  him,  and  offered  to 
send  him  to  either  Oxford  or  Cambridge  University, 
provided  he  would  become  a  clergyman  of  the 
Church  of  England ;  but  his  grandfather  had  been 
an  Independent  or  Congregationalist,  and  his  par- 
ents had  belonged  to  the  same  church,  so  that  the 
boy  refused  the  offer,  and  was  educated  at  a  semi- 
nary of  the  church  of  his  choice. 

His  thoughts  naturally  turned  to  the  ministry,  and 
he  preached  his  first  sermon  at  the  age  of  twenty. 
After  a  pastorate  at  Kibworth  he  became,  in  1729, 
the  minister  of  a  church  in  Northampton,  where  he 

267 


268  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

preached  for  twenty  years.  He  was  also  the  head 
of  a  theological  seminary  there,  teaching  a  great 
variety  of  subjects,  and  preparing  scores  of  young 
men  for  the  ministry. 

Toward  the  end  of  1750  it  became  evident  that 
consumption  had  set  in.  A  voyage  to  Lisbon  was 
suggested,  but  Dr.  Doddridge  was  too  poor  for  that. 
A  friend  of  his,  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, thereupon  got  up  a  subscription,  and  speedily 
raised  for  this  purpose  $1,500,  for  the  graces  of 
Doddridge's  character  made  him  greatly  beloved  by 
men  of  all  classes  and  beliefs.  Doddridge  went  to 
Lisbon,  but  his  disease  carried  him  off  the  next  year, 
and  on  October  26,  1751,  he  went  to  join  the  sing- 
ing hosts  of  heaven. 

Doddridge's  hymns  were  nearly  all  based  upon 
Scripture,  and  many  of  them  repeat  the  Bible 
thoughts  and  phrases  with  much  fidelity.  They 
were  written  for  his  sermons,  and  were  lined  off  to 
the  congregation  at  the  close  of  the  service.  Dur- 
ing Dr.  Doddridge's  lifetime  they  were  circulated  in 
manuscript,  and  were  not  printed  till  1755,  when  a 
collection  of  them  was  put  forth  by  his  friend,  Job 
Orton. 

Doddridge  wrote  more  than  four  hundred  hymns, 
a  large  number  of  which  are  still  in  use.  He  was 
an  imitator  of  his  friend.  Dr.  Watts,  but  was  a  more 
even  writer,  not  rising  so  high  as  Watts,  nor  sink- 
ing so  near  to  the  level  of  prose.  He  wrote  many 
valuable  prose  works,  the  most  famous  being  his 
commentary  on  the  New  Testament,  "  The  Family 
Expositor,"  and  his  **  Rise  and  Progress  of  Religion 


Great  God !  We  Sing  Thy  Mighty  Hand      269 

in  the  Soul."  His  best-known  hymns  are  :  **  Jesus  ! 
I  love  Thy  charming  name,"  **  Awake,  my  soul, 
stretch  every  nerve,"  **  Do  I  not  love  Thee,  O  my 
Lord?"  "  Grace, 'tis  a  charming  sound,"  **  Trium- 
phant Zion,  lift  thy  head,"  '*  O  God  of  Bethel  by 
whose  hand,"  and  **  O  happy  day  that  fixed  my 
choice." 

The  new-year's  hymn  that  we  have  chosen  was 
published  with  the  heading,  **  Help  obtained  of  God, 
Acts  26 :  22."  Several  lines  appear  in  different 
forms  ;  I  give  the  version  that  seems  to  me  the 
best :  — 

Great  God  !  we  sing  Thy  mighty  hand 
By  which  supported  still  we  stand ; 
The  opening  year  Thy  mercy  shows ; 
Let  mercy  crown  it  till  it  close. 

By  day,  by  night,  at  home,  abroad, 
Still  we  are  guarded  by  our  God  ; 
By  His  incessant  bounty  fed, 
By  His  unerring  counsel  led. 

With  grateful  hearts  the  past  we  own  ; 
The  future,  all  to  us  unknown, 
We  to  Thy  guardian  care  commit, 
And  peaceful  leave  before  Thy  feet. 

In  scenes  exalted  or  depressed. 
Be  Thou  our  joy  and  Thou  our  rest ; 
Thy  goodness  all  our  hopes  shall  raise, 
Adored  through  all  our  changing  days. 

When  death  shall  interrupt  our  songs. 
And  seal  in  silence  mortal  tongues, 
Our  Helper,  God,  in  whom  we  trust. 
In  better  worlds  our  souls  shall  boast. 


"Father,  I  Know  That  All  My  Life." 

Anna  Laetitia  Waring. 

VERY  little  is  known  about  the  author  of  this 
hymn,  because  of  her  remarkably  retiring  dis- 
position. She  was  Miss  Anna  Laetitia  Waring,  and 
was  born  in  Neath,  a  town  of  South  Wales,  in  1820. 
In  1850  she  published  her  "  Hymns  and  Meditations," 
and  in  1858  she  published  *'  Additional  Hymns."  It 
is  believed  that  she  was  a  Friend,  and  that  her  life 
was  full  of  suffering  and  pain. 

Miss  Waring's  hymns  are  beautiful  in  every  way, 
and  two  of  them  have  become  world-favorites — the 
one  printed  below,  and  *'  In  Heavenly  Love  Abid- 
ing." "  Father,  I  Know  That  All  My  Life  "  was  in- 
cluded in  Miss  Waring's  first  volume  of  poems,  and 
there  it  was  given  the  title,  "  My  Times  Are  in  Thy 
Hand."  It  had  originally  eight  stanzas  of  six  lines 
each,  and  I  give  it  below  in  the  longer  form  ;  but  in 
singing,  the  first  five  stanzas  are  all  that  are  usually 
used.  In  our  hymn-books,  also,  many  of  the  lines 
are  shortened  to  make  the  rhythm  smoother.  Here 
is  the  hymn,  just  as  Miss  Waring  wrote  it : — 

Father,  I  know  that  all  my  life 

Is  portioned  out  for  me, 
And  the  changes  that  are  sure  to  come 

I  do  not  fear  to  see ; 
But  I  ask  Thee  for  a  present  mind 

Intent  on  pleasing  Thee. 
270 


Father,  I  Know  That  All  My  Life  271 

I  ask  Thee  for  a  thoughtful  love, 

Through  constant  watching  wise, 
To  meet  the  glad  with  joyful  smiles, 

And  to  wipe  the  weeping  eyes ; 
And  a  heart  at  leisure  from  itself. 

To  soothe  and  sympathize. 


I  would  not  have  the  restless  will 
That  hurries  to  and  fro, 

Seeking  for  some  great  thing  to  do 
Or  secret  thing  to  know ; 

I  would  be  treated  as  a  child. 
And  guided  where  I  go. 

Wherever  in  the  world  I  am, 

In  whatsoe'er  estate, 
I  have  a  fellowship  with  hearts 

To  keep  and  cultivate  ; 
And  a  work  of  lowly  love  to  do 

For  the  Lord  on  whom  I  wait. 


So  I  ask  Thee  for  the  daily  strength. 

To  none  that  ask  denied, 
And  a  mind  to  blend  with  outward  life 

While  keeping  at  Thy  side  ; 
Content  to  fill  a  little  space. 

If  Thou  be  glorified. 

And  if  some  things  I  do  not  ask 

In  my  cup  of  blessing  be, 
I  would  have  my  spirit  filled  the  more 

With  grateful  love  to  Thee, 
More  careful,  not  to  serve  Thee  much, 

But  to  please  Thee  perfectly. 


272  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

There  are  briers  besetting  every  path 

That  call  for  patient  care  ; 
There  is  a  cross  in  every  lot, 

And  an  earnest  need  for  prayer ; 
But  a  lowly  heart  that  leans  on  Thee 

Is  happy  anywhere. 

In  a  service  which  Thy  will  appoints 
There  are  no  bonds  for  me ; 

For  my  inmost  heart  is  taught  "  the  truth  " 
That  makes  Thy  children  "  free  "  • 

And  a  life  of  self-renouncing  love 
Is  a  life  of  liberty. 


"  O,  Where  Are  Kings  and  Empires  Now  ? '' 
Arthur  Cleveland  Coxe, 

THIS  hymn  was  written  by  a  distinguished  bishop 
of  the  American  Episcopal  Church,  the  Rt. 
Rev.  Arthur  Cleveland  Coxe.  He  was  born  in  Mend- 
ham,  N.  J.,  May  lo,  1818,  and  died  in  1896.  His 
father,  Rev.  Samuel  H.  Cox,  D.  D.,  was  a  famous 
Presbyterian  clergyman,  and  father  and  son  carried 
on  for  many  years  a  very  earnest  but  good-natured 
discussion,  not  only  over  the  son's  departure  from 
the  father's  denomination,  but  over  his  adding  an 
**  e  "  to  the  end  of  his  name  ! 

The  young  man  graduated  from  the  University  of 
New  York  in  1838,  and  after  successful  pastorates 
in  Hartford,  Baltimore,  and  New  York  City,  he  be- 
came, in  1865,  bishop  of  Western  New  York,  having 
previously  been  chosen  bishop  of  Texas,  but  declin- 
ing. 

Most  of  Bishop  Coxe's  poems  were  composed  in 
his  youth,  and  his  most  famous  book,  **  Christian 
Ballads,"  was  published  in  1840.  Among  his  most 
notable  hymns  are  "  We  are  living,  we  are  dwell- 
ing in  a  grand  and  awful  time,"  *'  Saviour,  sprinkle 
many  nations,"  *'  In  the  silent  midnight  watches,"  and 
the  hymn  here  chosen,  "  O,  Where  Are  Kings  and 
Empires  Now  ? "  Though  Bishop  Coxe's  hymns 
were  speedily  adopted  by  every  other  denomination, 

273 


274  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

he  was  himself  a  member  of  the  Episcopal  commit- 
tee on  the  selection  of  hymns,  and  his  modesty  kept 
his  own  work  out  of  the  hymnal  of  his  own  church. 

"  O,  Where  Are  Kings  and  Empires  Now  ?  "  was 
originally  published  in  The  Churchman  in  1839,  and 
was  included  in  "  Christian  Ballads  "  in  1840.  Its 
four  stanzas  are  a  condensation  of  ten  double  stanzas. 

On  one  occasion  a  powerful  impression  was  pro- 
duced by  a  stanza  of  the  hymn.  It  was  at  the  gen- 
eral conference  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance  in  1873, 
in  New  York  City.  President  Woolsey  of  Yale  was 
speaking  on  the  scepticism  regarding  prayer  that 
was  so  common  at  that  time.  At  length  with  great 
force  he  quoted  : — 

**  O,  where  are  kings  and  empires  now, 
Of  old  that  went  and  came  ? 
But,  Lord,  Thy  church  is  praying  j/^/, 
A  thousand  years  the  same !  " 

The  entire  assembly  burst  into  applause,  and  many 
eyes  were  wet  with  the  depth  of  feeling. 

Here  is  the  hymn,  in  the  short  form  used  in  all  the 
hymn-books  : — 

O,  where  are  kings  and  empires  now. 

Of  old  that  went  and  came  ? 
But,  Lord,  Thy  church  is  praying  yet, 

A  thousand  years  the  same. 

We  mark  her  goodly  battlements. 

And  her  foundations  strong  ; 
We  hear  within  the  solemn  voice 

Of  her  unending  song. 


O,  Where  Are  Kings  and  Empires  Now?      275 

For  not  like  kingdoms  of  the  world 

Thy  holy  church,  O  God  ! 
Though  earthquake's  shocks  are  threatening  her, 

And  tempests  are  abroad, — 

Unshaken  as  eternal  hills, 

Immovable  she  stands, 
A  mountain  that  shall  fill  the  earth, 

A  house  not  made  by  hands. 


"  Come,  Said  Jesus'  Sacred  Voice.'* 
Anna  Laetitia  Barbauld, 

ANNA  LAETITIA  AIKIN  was  a  wonderful  little 
girl.  She  was  born  in  Leicestershire,  England, 
June  20, 1 743.  Her  father  was  Rev.  John  Aikin,  D.  D., 
a  Presbyterian  minister  who  became  a  school-teacher. 
Before  the  girl  was  two  years  old  she  could  read 
sentences  and  short  stories  without  spelling  her 
words,  and  in  half  a  year  afterward  she  could  read 
as  well  as  most  women.  When  she  was  five  years 
old,  her  father  was  talking  one  day  with  a  friend 
about  the  condition  of  the  angels  in  heaven,  and 
was  remarking  that,  since  joy  meant  additional 
happiness,  they  could  not  experience  joy,  because 
they  were  perfectly  happy  already.  *'  I  think  you 
are  mistaken,  papa,"  Anna  piped  up,  "because  in 
the  chapter  I  read  to  you  this  morning  from  the 
New  Testament,  it  said  that  there  is  more  joy  in 
heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth  than  over 
ninety  and  nine  persons  that  need  no  repentance." 
The  gifted  child  soon  became  acquainted  with  many 
of  the  best  English  authors,  and  by  the  time  she 
reached  the  age  of  twenty  she  had  become  familiar 
with  French  and  Italian,  besides  learning  a  great 
deal  of  Latin  and  Greek. 

But  Anna  Aikin's  life  was  a  very  sad  one,  because 
of  an  unhappy  marriage.     In  1774  she  was  wedded 

276 


Come,  Said  Jesus*  Sacred  Voice  277 

to  Rev.  Rochemont  Barbauld,  a  Unitarian  minister, 
who  also,  like  Dr.  Aikin,  became  a  school-teacher. 
Mrs.  Barbauld  was  his  assistant  in  his  school.  He 
was  a  man  of  very  violent  temper,  which  in  time 
developed  into  insanity.  He  attacked  Mrs.  Barbauld 
with  a  knife,  and  she  was  obliged  to  put  him  into  an 
asylum.  He  escaped,  and  committed  suicide  by 
drowning  in  1808.  Mrs.  Barbauld  continued  to  live 
in  her  husband's  home,  and  reached  a  good  old  age, 
dying  on  March  9,  1825,  greatly  honored  by  all. 

Mrs.  Barbauld  wrote  twenty-one  hymns,  the  most 
famous  being  "  Awake,  my  soul !  lift  up  thine  eyes,'* 
"  Again  the  Lord  of  life  and  light,"  "  How  blest  the 
righteous  when  he  dies,"  and  **  Praise  to  God,  im- 
mortal praise."  The  hymn  we  have  chosen  is  en- 
titled "  The  Gracious  Call."  It  was  written  about 
1792,  and  is  based,  of  course,  upon  Matt.  11:28, 
*'  Come  unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  It  con- 
sists of  four  stanzas  : — 

Come,  said  Jesus'  sacred  voice, 
Come,  and  make  my  path  your  choice ; 
I  will  guide  you  to  your  home ; 
Weary  pilgrim,  hither  come. 

Thou  who,  houseless,  sole,  forlorn, 
Long  hast  borne  the  proud  world's  scorn, 
Long  hast  roamed  the  barren  waste, 
Weary  pilgrim,  hither  haste. 

Ye  who,  tossed  on  beds  of  pain. 
Seek  for  ease,  but  seek  in  vain ; 
Ye  by  fiercer  anguish  torn. 
In  remorse  for  guilt  who  mourn ; 


278  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Hither  come,  for  here  is  found 
Balm  that  flows  for  every  wound  ! 
Peace  that  ever  shall  endure, 
Rest  eternal,  sacred,  sure. 

Probably  the  most  famous  bit  of  writing  done  by 
Mrs.  Barbauld  are  the  following  lines,  from  a  short 
poem  written  about  twelve  years  before  her  death : — 

Life  !  we've  been  long  together. 
Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather. 
'Tis  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear  — 
Perhaps  'twill  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear. 

Then  steal  away ;  give  little  warning ; 
Choose  thine  own  time ; 
Say  not  good-night, — but  in  some  brighter  clime 

Bid  me  good-morning  1 


«  That  Sweet  Story  of  Old." 
Jemima  Luke. 

THERE  died,  in  1906,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  Mrs. 
Jemima  Luke,  the  beloved  author  of  that  world- 
famous  song  for  children  (and  adults,  too,  for  that 
matter),  **  I  think  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of 
old." 

Mrs.  Luke  was  92  years  old  when  she  passed 
away.  Her  famous  song  was  written  65  years  be- 
fore, in  1841.  At  that  time  she  was  Miss  Jemima 
Thompson,  the  daughter  of  a  missionary  enthusiast, 
and  herself  a  whole-souled  laborer  for  the  Lord. 

One  day  she  was  driving  out  to  see  to  some  work 
in  which  she  was  interested,  and,  as  the  journey  was 
an  hour  long,  she  occupied  her  time  composing  the 
hymn.  The  last  two  stanzas,  "  But  thousands  and 
thousands  who  wander  and  fall,"  were  added  as  an 
afterthought,  to  fit  the  song  for  use  in  missionary 
gatherings.  The  song  was  first  sung  soon  after  at 
Blagdon  School,  where  Miss  Thompson  herself 
taught  it  to  the  children. 

Though  the  gifted  author  wrote  much,  no  other 
poem  of  hers  has  so  seized  upon  popular  fancy.  Of 
this  hymn,  however,  she  continued  to  hear  up  to  the 
last,  and  from  all  parts  of  the  world  messages  of 
gratitude  were  constantly  coming  to  her. 

279 


28o  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

She  herself  was  very  modest,  and  insisted  that  she 
was  over-praised.  Her  character  was  a  very  charm- 
ing one,  and  she  was  widely  beloved.  She  was  ac- 
cepted as  a  missionary  to  the  women  of  India,  and 
was  on  the  point  of  setting  out  when  a  failure  of  her 
health  compelled  her  to  abandon  that  design.  She 
edited  The  Missionary  Repositoryy  the  first  mission- 
ary magazine  for  children,  which  numbered  among 
its  contributors  David  Livingstone,  Robert  Moffat, 
and  James  Montgomery.  The  last  years  of  her  life 
were  largely  devoted  to  the  very  important  work  of 
building  parsonages  for  communities  not  able  to 
provide  them  for  themselves.  In  1843  she  married 
Rev.  Samuel  Luke,  of  Bristol,  and  for  25  years,  until 
he  died,  she  was  a  model  pastor's  wife. 

Mrs.  Luke  and  Christian  Endeavorers  came  to- 
gether on  several  notable  occasions.  The  inimitable 
musical  director  of  the  splendid  London  Convention 
of  1900  was  Rev.  Carey  Bonner,  general  secretary 
of  the  British  Sunday  School  Union.  He  wrote  for 
that  Convention  a  new  setting  of  "  I  think  when  I 
read  that  sweet  story  of  old,"  and  it  was  sung  at  the 
Junior  rally  by  1,200  Juniors.  Mrs.  Luke  was  not 
well  enough  to  be  present,  but  she  sent  a  letter  to 
the  children,  which  was  read  to  them  by  another 
famous  poet,  Marianne  Farningham. 

This  music  Mrs.  Luke  wanted  to  hear,  so  copies 
of  it  were  sent  to  half  a  dozen  children  in  Newport, 
her  home  on  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  they,  with  Mr. 
Bonner,  sung  it  to  her. 

Again,  at  the  Baltimore  Christian  Endeavor  Con- 
vention, where  Mr.  Bonner  was  the  musical  director, 


That  Sweet  Story  of  Old  281 

the  hymn  was  sung  as  part  of  the  magnificent 
**  Festival  of  Praise,"  and  Mrs.  Luke  wrote  for  the 
occasion  a  delightful  message,  which  was  printed  in 
facsimile,  and  distributed  through  the  audience. 
Some  sentences  from  that  message  may  well  be 
taken  as  summing  up  her  beautiful  life  : — 

**  Dear  children,  you  will  be  men  and  women 
soon,  and  it  is  for  you  and  the  children  of  England 
to  carry  the  message  of  a  Saviour's  love  to  every 
nation  of  this  sin-stricken  world.  It  is  a  blessed 
message  to  carry,  and  it  is  happy  work  to  do.  The 
Lord  make  you  ever  faithful  to  Him,  and  unspeak- 
ably happy  in  His  service !  I  came  to  Him  at  ten 
years  of  age,  and  at  ninety-one  can  testify  to  His 
care  and  faithfulness." 

The  following  is  the  entire  hymn :  — 


I  think  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of  old, 

When  Jesus  was  here  among  men. 
How  He  called  little  children  as  lambs  to  His  fold, 

I  should  hke  to  have  been  with  them  then. 


I  wish  that  His  hands  had  been  placed  on  ray  head, 
That  His  arm  had  been  thrown  around  me. 

And  that  I  might  have  seen  His  kind  look  when 
He  said, 
"  Let  the  little  ones  come  unto  me." 


Yet  still  to  His  footstool  in  prayer  I  may  go, 
And  ask  for  a  share  in  His  love ; 

And  if  I  thus  earnestly  seek  Him  below, 
I  shall  see  Him  and  hear  Him  above. 


282  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

In  that  beautiful  place  He  has  gone  to  prepare 
For  all  who  are  washed  and  forgiven ; 

And  many  dear  children  shall  be  with  Him  there, 
For  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

But  thousands  and  thousands  who  wander  and  fall 
Never  heard  of  that  heavenly  home ; 

I  wish  they  could  know  there  is  room  for  them  all, 
And  that  Jesus  had  bid  them  to  come. 

I  long  for  the  joy  of  that  glorious  time, 
The  sweetest,  the  brightest,  the  best ; 

When  the  dear  little  children  of  every  clime 
Shall  crowd  to  His  arms  and  be  blest. 


"  The  Star-Spangled  Banner." 

Francis  Scott  Key. 

THIS  song  is  not  a  hymn,  strictly  speaking,  but 
it  is  one  of  our  national  anthems. 

The  father  of  Francis  Scott  Key  was  a  Revolu- 
tionary patriot,  whose  boy  was  born  at  Frederick, 
Md.,  August  I,  1779.  The  lad  was  educated  at  St. 
John's  College,  Annapolis,  and  became  a  brilliant 
lawyer.  He  practised  in  Washington,  and  was 
United  States  district  attorney  there  for  three  terms, 
holding  that  office  at  his  death. 

Mr.  Key  wrote  a  number  of  hymns,  one  of  which, 
"  Lord,  with  glowing  heart  Fd  praise  Thee,"  is  still 
very  widely  used.  His  most  famous  production, 
however,  is  of  course  that  stirring  patriotic  anthem, 
"  The  Star-Spangled  Banner." 

It  was  written  during  the  war  of  18 12.  On  Au- 
gust 14,  1 8 14,  Key  went  from  Baltimore  to  visit  the 
British  fleet  at  the  mouth  of  the  Potomac,  in  order  to 
obtain  the  release  of  a  friend  who  had  been  captured. 
But  an  attack  on  Baltimore  was  about  to  be  made, 
so  that  Mr.  Key,  with  his  truce-boat,  was  detained 
all  night,  while  the  bombardment  of  Fort  McHenry, 
in  the  harbor  of  Baltimore,  was  vigorously  carried 
on. 

It  was  a  night  of  deep  anxiety.  **  Just  before  day 
the  cannonading  ceased.     Key,  and  his  friend  who 

283 


284  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

had  gone  with  him,  paced  the  deck  until  dawn, 
eager  for  the  first  streak  of  day  to  disclose  the  re- 
sult. With  'the  dawn's  early  light'  they  caught 
sight  of  *  the  broad  stripes  and  bright  stars '  of  the 
dear  old  flag  still  floating  over  the  fort." 

Key  was  successful  in  his  mission,  and  as  he  went 
back  to  the  city  he  hastily  wrote,  on  the  back  of  a 
letter,  the  first  draft  of  '*  The  Star-Spangled  Banner." 
It  was  at  once  completed,  and  that  same  day  was 
printed  and  circulated  all  over  Baltimore.  It  be- 
came popular  instantly,  being  sung  to  the  same 
tune  that  is  still  used, — the  tune  of  "  Anacreon  in 
Heaven." 

The  bronze  statue  of  Key,  placed  in  1898  over  his 
grave  at  Frederick,  Md.,  shows  him  with  his  hand 
outstretched,  as  at  the  moment  when  he  discovered 
that  **  our  flag  was  still  there,"  while  his  other  arm 
is  waving  his  hat  exultantly. 

It  is  good  to  know  that  Mr.  Key  was  a  man  of  fine 
Christian  character.  He  was  kindly  in  his  personal 
relations,  charitable,  the  earnest  friend  of  the  colored 
men,  fervent  in  public  prayer,  and  a  very  active 
member  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church.  He 
was  just  such  a  man  as  we  would  have  chosen  to 
write  our  national  anthem.  And  here  are  the 
words :  — 


Oh  !  say,  can  you  see  by  the  dawn's  early  light 

What  so  proudly  we  hailed  at  the  twilight's  last  gleaming, — 

Whose   broad   stripes    and   bright  stars  through  the  perilous 

fight, 
O'er  the  ramparts  we  watched,  were  so  gallantly  streaming  ? 


The  Star-Spangled  Banner  285 

And  the  rocket's  red  glare,  the  bombs  bursting  in  air, 
Gave  proof  through  the  night  that  our  flag  was  still  there; 
Oh  !  say,  does  that  star-spangled  banner  yet  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave  ? 

On  that  shore,  dimly  seen  through  the  mists  of  the  deep, 
Where  the  foe's  haughty  host  in  dread  silence  reposes, 
What  is  that  which  the  breeze,  o'er  the  towering  steep, 
As  it  fitfully  blows,  now  conceals,  now  discloses  ? 
Now  it  catches  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first  beam, 
In  full  glory  reflected  now  shines  on  the  stream ; 
'Tis  the  star-spangled  banner ;  oh,  long  may  it  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave  ! 

And  where  is  that  band  who  so  vauntingly  swore 

That  the  havoc  of  war  and  the  battle's  confusion 

A  home  and  a  country  should  leave  us  no  more  ? 

Their  blood  has  washed  out  their  foul  footsteps'  pollution. 

No  refuge  could  save  the  hireling  and  slave 

From  the  terror  of  flight,  or  the  gloom  of  the  grave ; 

And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  doth  wave 

O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

Oh  !  thus  be  it  ever,  when  freemen  shall  stand 
Between  their  loved  homes  and  the  war's  desolation ! 
Blest  with  victory  and  peace,  may  the  heaven-rescued  land 
Praise  the  Power  that  hath  made  and  preserved  us  a  nation. 
Then  conquer  we  must,  when  our  cause  it  is  just ; 
And  this  be  our  motto,  *'  In  God  is  our  trust "  ; 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 


"Lord  of  All  Being,  Throned  Afar." 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES,  who  wrote 
this  hymn,  was  one  of  the  best  beloved  of 
American  poets.  He  was  born  in  Cambridge,  Mass., 
August  29,  1809,  and  died  in  Boston,  October  7, 
1894.  First  he  studied  law,  but  turned  from  that 
to  medicine,  and  became  a  distinguished  professor 
of  anatomy  and  physiology,  first  at  Dartmouth 
and  then,  through  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  at 
Harvard. 

Dr.  Holmes  was  a  wise  and  witty  man,  and  wis- 
dom and  wit  are  combined  in  his  poems,  essays,  and 
novels.  His  first  notable  poem,  "Old  Ironsides," 
saved  from  destruction  the  historic  frigate.  Constitu- 
tion. His  first  important  literary  work  was  the 
series  of  remarkable  essays  which  he  contributed  to 
The  Atlantic  Monthly  when  it  was  founded, — **  The 
Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast-Table."  A  brighter  set  of 
essays  was  never  written,  and  at  once  Dr.  Holmes 
became  a  favorite  writer  of  prose,  as  he  was  already 
a  favorite  writer  of  poetry. 

A  second  series  of  essays  followed  in  The  Atlantic 
Monthly,  entitled  "The  Professor  at  the  Breakfast- 
Table."  It  was  Dr.  Holmes's  pleasant  habit  to  close 
his  chapters   with  poems  by  himself.     One  of  the 

286 


Lord  of  All  Being,  Throned  Afar  287 

poems  thus  used  in  that  series  was  the  beautiful 
hymn, 

"  O  Love  Divine,  that  stooped  to  share 
Our  sharpest  pang,  our  bitterest  tear." 

The  last  chapter  closed  with  an  invitation  to  his 
readers  to  join  him  *'  in  singing  (inwardly)  this  hymn 
to  the  Source  of  the  light  we  all  need  to  lead  us,  and 
the  warmth  which  alone  can  make  us  all  brothers." 
Then  followed  the  hymn  before  us,  which  he  called 
**  A  Sunday  Hymn."  It  was  written  in  1848,  though 
the  chapter  of  **The  Professor  at  the  Breakfast- 
Table  "  in  which  it  appeared  was  printed  in  Decem- 
ber, 1859.  The  hymn  is  probably  the  finest  state- 
ment of  God's  omnipresence  in  the  English  language, 
outside  of  the  Bible. 

Lord  of  all  being,  throned  afar, 
Thy  glory  flames  from  sun  and  star ; 
Centre  and  soul  of  every  sphere, 
Yet  to  each  loving  heart  how  near  ! 

Sun  of  our  life.  Thy  quickening  ray 
Sheds  on  our  path  the  glow  of  day ; 
Star  of  our  hope,  Thy  softened  light 
Cheers  the  long  watches  of  the  night. 

Our  midnight  is  Thy  smile  withdrawn  ; 
Our  noontide  is  Thy  gracious  dawn ; 
Our  rainbow  arch  Thy  mercy's  sign  : 
All,  save  the  clouds  of  sin,  are  Thine ! 

Lord  of  all  life,  below,  above. 

Whose  light  is  truth,  whose  warmth  is  love. 

Before  Thy  ever-blazing  throne 

We  ask  no  lustre  of  our  own. 


288  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Grant  us  Thy  truth  to  make  us  free, 
And  kindling  hearts  that  burn  for  Thee, 
Till  all  Thy  living  altars  claim 
One  holy  light,  one  heavenly  flame  ! 


«0  God,  beneath  Thy  Guiding  Hand." 
Leonard  Bacon. 

THIS  is  one  of  the  best  known  of  American 
patriotic  hymns.  It  was  written  by  Leonard 
Bacon,  who  was  born  in  Detroit,  February  19,  1802. 
Detroit  was  then  hardly  more  than  a  fort  and  a 
trading-post,  and  his  father  was  a  missionary  there, 
leading  the  Indians  in  the  way  of  life.  No  wonder 
the  son  always  had  the  deepest  and  most  active 
interest  in  missions. 

Young  Leonard  became  a  student  at  Yale  College 
and  at  Andover  Theological  Seminary.  In  1825, 
almost  immediately  after  his  graduation  from  An- 
dover, he  became  pastor  of  the  First  Congregational 
Church  of  New  Haven,  where  he  remained,  as  pas- 
tor and  pastor  emeritus,,  for  fifty-seven  years, — the 
rest  of  his  life.  In  1866  he  became  professor  of  the- 
ology in  Yale  Divinity  School;  but  in  1871  he  re- 
signed that  post  and  became  lecturer  on  Church 
Polity.  He  was  one  of  the  founders  of  The  hide- 
pendent  and  The  New  Engla^ider,  and  was  editor  of 
both.  He  was  a  vigorous  and  powerful  Abolitionist, 
and  with  his  strong  convictions  he  was  all  his  life  a 
determined  advocate  of  many  noble  causes.  He 
died  December  23,  1881. 

Dr.  Bacon  edited  several  hymn-books,  and  wrote 
a  number  of  hymns  that  have  come  into  common 

289 


290  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

use.  Among  these  are  '*  Wake  the  song  of  jubilee," 
"  Though  now  the  nations  sit  beneath  the  darkness 
of  o'erspreading  death,"  "  Hail !  tranquil  hour  of 
closing  day,"  and  his  best-known  hymn,  given  below. 
It  was  originally  written  for  use  in  the  celebration  of 
the  second  centennial  of  New  Haven,  and  in  it  are 
compressed  the  leading  ideas  of  its  writer's  life. 

O  God,  beneath  Thy  guiding  hand 

Our  exiled  fathers  crossed  the  sea, 
And  when  they  trod  the  wintry  strand, 

With  prayer  and  psalm  they  worshipped  Thee. 

Thou  heardst,  well  pleased,  the  song,  the  prayer ; 

Thy  blessing  came;  and  still  its  power 
Shall  onward  through  all  ages  bear 

The  memory  of  that  holy  hour. 

What  change  !  through  pathless  wilds  no  more 

The  fierce  and  naked  savage  roams  : 
Sweet  praise,  along  the  cultured  shore, 

Breaks  from  ten  thousand  happy  homes. 

Laws,  freedom,  truth,  and  faith  in  God 
Came  with  those  exiles  o'er  the  waves, 

And  where  their  pilgrim  feet  have  trod. 
The  God  they  trusted  guards  their  graves. 

And  here  Thy  name,  O  God  of  love, 
Their  children's  children  shall  adore. 

Till  these  eternal  hills  remove 

And  spring  adorns  the  earth  no  more. 


"Tell  Me  the  Old,  Old  Story." 

Katheriiie  Ha7ikey. 

THIS  simple  but  beautiful  song  was  written  by 
an  English  woman,  Miss  Katherine  Hankey, 
the  daughter  of  a  banker  in  London.  In  1866  Miss 
Hankey  wrote  a  poem  of  fifty  stanzas.  It  was  about 
the  life  of  Jesus,  and  was  in  two  parts,  the  first 
being  entided,  "  The  Story  Wanted,"  and  the 
second,  ''  The  Story  Told."  From  the  first  part  two 
well-known  hymns  have  been  taken, — the  one  we 
have  selected  for  printing  here,  and  the  companion 
hymn,  that  is  often  printed  alongside  in  our  hymn- 
books,  *'  I  love  to  tell  the  story." 

Miss  Hankey  was  recovering  from  a  serious  illness 
when  she  wrote  ''  Tell  me  the  old,  old  story,"  and 
the  line,  "For  I  am  weak  and  weary,"  was  only 
a  picture  of  her  condition  at  the  time.  The  poem 
was  begun  in  January,  but  it  was  not  finished  till 
November  of  that  year. 

Here  is  the  way  the  song,  **  Tell  me  the  old,  old 
story,"  came  to  be  set  to  music. 

Dr.  Doane,  the  well-known  composer,  attended 
in  1867,  the  year  after  the  poem  was  written,  an 
international  convention  of  the  Young  Men's  Chris- 
tian Associations,  held  in  Montreal.  In  the  audience 
of  Christian  workers  was  Major-General  Russell, 
who  was  particularly  noted  just  then  because  of 
popular   excitement   over   the  question  of   Ireland, 

291 


292  A  Treasure  of  H5mins 

•  leading  to  many  riots,  and  General  Russell  was  in 
charge  of  the  British  troops. 

In  the  course  of  one  of  the  meetings,  when  a  great 
crowd  was  present,  General  Russell  rose,  and  read 
Miss  Hankey's  beautiful  poem.  He  was  profoundly 
moved,  and  the  tears  streamed  down  his  cheeks. 
Dr.  Doane  was  also  much  impressed  by  the  hymn, 
and  obtained  a  copy  of  the  words.  Then,  afterward, 
in  a  stage-coach  in  the  White  Mountains,  with  the 
grand  scenery  all  around  him,  he  wrote  the  music 
that  has  since  become  so  familiar  ;  and  that  evening 
the  hymn,  wedded  now  to  the  tune,  was  sung  for  the 
first  time  in  the  parlors  of  the  Crawford  House. 

*•  Tell  me  the  old,  old  story  "  is  popular  now  all 
over  the  world.  It  has  been  translated  into  German, 
Spanish,  Welsh,  Italian,  and  other  languages,  and  it 
is  sung  everywhere  with  equal  pleasure  because  it 
expresses  with  such  clearness  the  love  that  all  Chris- 
tians feel  for  their  dear  Redeemer. 

Here  is  the  hymn : — 

Tell  me  the  old,  old  story, 

Of  unseen  things  above, 
Of  Jesus  and  His  glory. 

Of  Jesus  and  His  love. 
Tell  me  the  story  simply, 

As  to  a  little  child, 
For  I  am  weak  and  weary, 

And  helpless  and  defiled. 

Tell  me  the  story  slowly, 

That  I  may  take  it  in  — 
That  wonderful  redemption, 

God's  remedy  for  sin. 


Tell  Me  the  Old,  Old  Story  293 

Tell  me  the  story  often, 

For  I  forget  so  soon ; 
The  early  dew  of  morning 

Has  passed  away  at  noon. 

Tell  me  the  story  softly, 

With  earnest  tones,  and  grave ; 
Remember  !   I'm  the  sinner 

Whom  Jesus  came  to  save. 
Tell  me  that  story  always. 

If  you  would  really  be, 
In  any  time  of  trouble, 

A  comforter  to  me. 

Tell  me  the  same  old  story, 

When  you  have  cause  to  fear 
That  this  world's  empty  glory 

Is  costing  me  too  dear. 
Yes,  and  when  that  world's  glory 

Is  dawning  on  my  soul. 
Tell  me  the  old,  old  story : 

"  Christ  Jesus  makes  thee  whole." 


"Glorious  Things  of  Thee  Are  Spoken." 

John  Newton, 

NONE  of  our  hymn-writers  has  had  a  history  so 
remarkable  as  that  of  John  Newton,  who  wrote 
this  noble  hymn.  He  was  born  in  London,  July  24, 
1725.  His  mother  was  a  pious  woman,  who  taught 
him  the  Catechism  and  many  other  good  things  ; 
but  she  died  when  the  lad  was  only  six  years  old. 

His  father  was  a  sea-captain,  and  could  not  supply 
the  place  of  a  mother.  He  took  the  boy  to  sea 
when  he  was  eleven  years  old,  and  the  young  fellow 
learned  to  curse  and  blaspheme,  and  became  very 
wild.  After  his  father  retired  from  the  sea,  the  son 
made  several  voyages  by  himself.  At  one  time  he 
was  forced  into  the  navy,  a  war  being  expected,  and 
he  became  a  midshipman.  But  he  was  very  restless 
and  he  deserted,  was  caught,  stripped,  whipped  se- 
verely, and  degraded  to  the  ranks. 

By  this  time  he  had  become  a  thorough  infidel, 
and  was  steeped  in  all  kinds  of  sin.  He  fell  into  the 
hands  of  a  slave-trader  in  Africa,  and  suffered  all 
manner  of  hardships  there,  being  continually  insulted 
and  almost  starved.  Delivered  providentially  from 
that  terrible  situation,  after  many  strange  and  hazard- 
ous adventures  he  became  a  slave-trader  himself, 
and  made  several  voyages  to  Africa  in  that  shameful 
occupation. 

The  reading  of  Thomas  a  Kempis,  the  fearful  ex- 

294 


Glorious  Things  of  Thee  Are  Spoken         295 

periences  of  a  storm  at  sea  in  which  his  ship  was  al- 
most lost,  his  deliverance  from  a  severe  fever  in 
Africa, — these,  and  other  experiences,  at  last  awoke 
in  the  sinful  man  the  memories  of  the  religion  his 
mother  had  taught  him,  and  he  turned  from  his  sins 
with  true  repentance. 

His  conversion  was  so  complete  that  he  became  a 
minister  of  the  gospel.  This  was  in  1764,  when  he 
was  thirty-nine  years  old.  He  settled  in  Olney,  Eng- 
land, and  there  it  was  that  he  formed  the  beautiful 
friendship  with  William  Cowper  which  has  given  to 
the  world  so  many  splendid  hymns.  Some  think 
that  it  was  with  the  desire  to  draw  Cowper's  mind 
away  from  his  deep  melancholy  that  Newton  pro- 
posed that  the  two  should  compose  a  series  of  hymns 
together.  Of  the  famous  collection  that  resulted, 
"  The  Olney  Hymns,"  Cowper  is  said  to  have  written 
sixty-six,  while  Newton  wrote  the  rest  of  the  three 
hundred  and  forty-nine.  But  more  of  Cowper's 
hymns  than  of  Newton's  have  become  famous. 

"Safely  through  another  week"  is  one  of  New- 
ton's hymns  that  is  most  often  sung.  Others  are  : 
"  How  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds,"  **  Approach, 
my  soul,  the  mercy  seat,"  "  Come,  my  soul,  thy  suit 
prepare,"  **  For  a  season  called  to  part,"  **  Great 
Shepherd  of  Thy  ransomed  flock,"  *'  In  evil  long  I 
took  delight"  (which  surely  paints  his  own  expe- 
periences),  ''  Jesus  !  who  knows  full  well,"  ''  Lord  !  I 
cannot  let  Thee  go,"  "  One  there  is  above  all  others," 
"  Quiet,  Lord  !  my  froward  heart,"  "  Saviour,  visit 
Thy  plantation,"  **  Sometimes  a  light  surprises," 
"  'Tis  a  point  I  long  to  know,"  ''  While  with  cease- 


296  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

less  course  the  sun,"  and  still  others  that  are  found 
in  most  of  our  hymn-books. 

But  the  greatest  of  all  the  hymns  of  John  Newton 
is  *'  Glorious  things  of  thee  are  spoken."  It  is  a 
noble  description  of  the  people  of  God,  under  the 
protection  of  their  supreme  leader.  Newton  wrote 
five  stanzas,  and  you  will  like  to  see  all  of  them. 
The  last  two,  however,  are  inferior  to  the  first  three, 
and  are  seldom  printed  in  our  hymn-books. 

Glorious  things  of  thee  are  spoken, 

Zion,  city  of  our  God  ! 
He,  whose  word  cannot  be  broken, 

Form'd  thee  for  His  own  abode ; 
On  the  Rock  of  ages  founded. 

What  can  shake  thy  sure  repose  ? 
With  salvation's  walls  surrounded. 

Thou  may'st  smile  at  all  thy  foes. 

See  1  the  streams  of  living  waters. 

Springing  from  eternal  love. 
Well  supply  thy  sons  and  daughters, 

And  all  fear  of  want  remove. 
Who  can  faint  when  such  a  river 

Ever  flows  their  thirst  to  assuage  ? 
Grace,  which,  like  the  Lord,  the  giver. 

Never  fails  from  age  to  age. 

Round  each  habitation  hov'ring. 

See  the  cloud  and  fire  appear  I 
For  a  glory  and  a  cov'ring, 

Showing  that  the  Lord  is  near ; 
Thus  deriving,  from  their  banner. 

Light  by  night,  and  shade  by  day: 
Safe  they  feed  upon  the  manna 

Which  He  gives  them  when  they  pray. 


Glorious  Things  of  Thee  Are  Spoken         297 

Bless'd  inhabitants  of  Zion, 

Wash'd  in  the  Redeemer's  blood  I 
Jesus,  whom  their  souls  rely  on, 

Makes  them  kings  and  priests  to  God. 
'Tis  His  love  His  people  raises 

Over  self  to  reign  as  kings. 
And  as  priests.  His  solemn  praises 

Each  for  a  thank-off' ring  brings. 

Saviour,  if  of  Zion's  city 

I  through  grace  a  member  am, 
Let  the  world  deride  or  pity, 

I  will  glory  in  Thy  name : 
Fading  is  the  worldling's  pleasure, 

All  his  boasted  pomp  and  show : 
Solid  joys  and  lasting  treasure. 

None  but  Zion's  children  know. 

"Olney  Hymns"  was  published  in  1779.  In  that 
year  Newton  became  rector  of  a  church  in  London, 
and  died  there  December  31,  1807.  Thus  he  had  a 
long  life  after  his  conversion.  It  was  a  very  useful 
life.  Wesley  and  Whitefield  were  his  friends. 
Among  his  converts  were  Claudius  Buchanan,  the 
great  missionary  to  the  East  Indies,  and  Thomas 
Scott,  the  eminent  Bible  commentator.  He  preached 
almost  to  the  time  of  his  death,  asking,  '*  Shall  the 
old  African  blasphemer  stop  while  he  can  speak  ?  " 
And  he  still  preaches  through  his  strong  and  spirited 
hymns. 


"  God  Moves  in  a  Mysterious  Way.*' 

William  Cowper. 

ONE  of  the  saddest  lives  ever  lived  was  that  of 
the  author  of  our  hymn,  William  Cowper.  He 
was  born  at  Great  Berkhampstead,  England,  in  1731. 
His  father  was  rector  of  the  church  there.  His 
mother  died  when  he  was  six  years  old,  and  that 
was  his  first  great  sorrow. 

His  second  misfortune  was  when,  at  the  age  of 
ten,  he  was  sent  to  Westminster  School.  He  was  a 
delicate,  sensitive  lad,  and  the  other  boys  tormented 
him  till  he  was  almost  crazy. 

After  this  time,  when  he  was  studying  law,  he  fell 
in  love  with  his  cousin  ;  but  her  father  would  not  let 
him  marry  her.     That  was  his  third  great  grief. 

He  was  not  a  success  as  a  lawyer.  A  friend  ob- 
tained for  him  a  position  as  clerk  in  the  House  of 
Lords  ;  but  when  the  shrinking  young  man  learned 
that  he  would  need  to  be  examined  before  the  bar  of 
the  House  of  Lords,  he  became  so  terrified  at  the 
prospect  that  he  tried  to  commit  suicide. 

Ever  since  the  age  of  twenty,  Cowper's  mind  had 
been  giving  way.  He  was  put  into  an  insane 
asylum,  where  a  sympathetic  doctor  did  much  for 
him ;  but  all  his  life  after  that  was  clouded  with  his 
fearful  disease.  Indeed,  there  were  only  three  bright 
spots  in  it. 

298 


God  Moves  in  a  Mysterious  Way  299 

One  of  these  was  his  friendship  with  the  Unwins, 
and  especially  with  Mrs.  Unwin,  who  nursed  him 
tenderly.  Another  was  his  friendship  with  Rev. 
John  Newton,  a  strong  character  with  a  history  very 
different  from  Cowper's  and  yet  with  tastes  much 
like  his.  The  third  was  his  poetry,  which  became  a 
great  solace  to  him,  as  it  has  remained  a  great  bless- 
ing to  the  world. 

Cowper  wrote  a  number  of  great  secular  poems. 
The  rollicking  narrative,  **John  Gilpin,"  is  well 
known.  His  greatest  work  is  a  long  poem  in  blank 
verse,  **  The  Task,"  one  of  the  wisest  books  ever 
written,  and  one  of  the  most  charming.  But  we 
have  to  do  just  now  with  his  religious  verses. 

It  was  John  Newton  who  proposed,  perhaps  to 
divert  his  friend's  mind  from  his  melancholy,  that 
they  two  should  write  a  volume  of  hymns.  The  re- 
sult was  the  famous  *'  Olney  Hymns,"  named  from 
the  town  in  which  the  two  were  living.  These 
hymns  were  composed  from  1767  to  1779.  There 
are  349  of  these  hymns,  and  Cowper  is  said  to  have 
written  66  of  them. 

Selections  from  the  Olney  Hymns  are  to  be  found 
in  all  hymn-books.  Among  those  by  Cowper  are, 
**  O  for  a  closer  walk  with  God,"  *'  Sometimes  a 
light  surprises,"  *'  Hark,  my  soul,  it  is  the  Lord," 
"  Jesus,  where'er  Thy  people  meet,"  **  What  various 
hindrances  we  meet,"  and  the  greatest  of  his  hymns, 
"  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood." 

Then,  there  is  the  magnificent  hymn,  **  God  moves 
in  a  mysterious  way."  It  is  said  that  Cowper  wrote 
this  hymn  after  recovering  from  one  of  his  fits  of 


300  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

madness,  in  the  course  of  which  he  had  tried  to 
drown  himself  in  the  River  Ouse,  but  had  been 
providentially  prevented.  The  hymn  was  written 
about  the  year  1773.  The  tender,  loving  poet 
lingered  on  for  many  years,  and  his  sad  life  did  not 
come  to  an  end  till  1800. 
Here  is  our  hymn  : — 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 

His  wonders  to  perform ; 
He  plants  His  footsteps  in  the  sea, 

And  rides  upon  the  storm. 

Ye  fearful  saints,  fresh  courage  take  ! 

The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  will  break 

In  blessings  on  your  head. 

Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 

But  trust  Him  for  His  grace : 
Behind  a  frowning  providence 

He  hides  a  smiling  face. 

His  purposes  will  ripen  fast, 

Unfolding  every  hour ; 
The  bud  may  have  a  bitter  taste. 

But  sweet  will  be  the  flower. 

Blind  unbelief  is  sure  to  err. 

And  scan  his  work  in  vain ; 
God  is  His  own  interpreter, 

And  He  will  make  it  plain. 


"  Shepherd  of  Tender  Youth/' 
Clement  of  Alexandria. 

THIS  hymn  is  one  of  great  interest,  because,  out- 
side the  New  Testament  hymns,  it  is  the  oldest 
Christian  hymn  whose  authorship  is  known.  Of 
course  it  was  not  written  in  EngHsh,  but  in  Greek. 
The  author  Uved  seventeen  centuries  ago.  His 
name  was  Clement,  and  he  is  called  Clement  of 
Alexandria,  to  distinguish  him  from  other  men  of 
the  same  name,  and  because  he  was  head  of  the 
great  Christian  school  in  that  Egyptian  city.  He 
had  been  a  heathen  philosopher,  and  he  did  not  be- 
come a  Christian  until  he  had  studied  the  new  re- 
ligion under  at  least  six  different  teachers,  so  that 
when  he  did  take  up  Christianity,  he  went  into  it 
with  a  full  understanding,  and  became  a  powerful 
teacher  of  it. 

Among  the  books  that  Clement  wrote  is  one  called 
"  The  Instructor,"  explaining  in  a  very  enthusiastic 
way  the  teachings  of  Christ.  At  the  close  of  this 
book  is  our  hymn.  No  one  knows  just  when  it  was 
written,  but  Clement  was  driven  away  from  Alex- 
andria by  persecution  in  A.  D.  202,  and  died  about 
A.  D.  220,  so  that  the  hymn  is  just  about  one  thou- 
sand seven  hundred  years  old. 

The  translation  into  English,  strange  to  say,  is 
very  recent,  for  the  work  was  not  done  till  1846.     In 

301 


302  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

that  year  Rev.  Henry  Martyn  Dexter,  a  Congrega- 
tional minister  of  Manchester,  N.  H.,  translated  the 
old  Greek  poem  to  use  with  a  sermon  on  Deut.  32  :  7, 
"  Remember  the  days  of  old."  First  he  put  the 
Greek  into  prose,  and  then  he  put  his  prose  transla- 
tion, or  as  much  of  it  as  he  thought  suitable,  into 
poetry.  The  result  is  that  it  is  not  a  very  accurate 
translation,  though  a  very  spirited  one.  The  hymn 
was  first  printed  in  The  Congregationalist^  the  paper 
of  which  Dr.  Dexter  afterward  became  the  editor, 
in  the  number  for  December  21,  1849.  And  here 
it  is : — 

Shepherd  of  tender  youth, 
Guiding  in  love  and  truth 

Through  devious  ways : 
Christ,  our  triumphant  King, 
We  come  Thy  name  to  sing, 
And  here  our  children  bring, 

To  shout  Thy  praise. 

Thou  art  our  holy  Lord, 
O  all-subduing  Word, 

Healer  of  strife : 
Thou  didst  Thyself  abase, 
That  from  sin's  deep  disgrace 
Thou  mightest  save  our  race. 

And  give  us  life. 

Thou  art  the  great  High  Priest, 
Thou  hast  prepared  the  feast 

Of  heavenly  love : 
While  in  our  mortal  pain, 
None  calls  on  Thee  in  vain : 
Help  Thou  dost  not  disdain. 

Help  from  above. 


Shepherd  of  Tender  Youth  303 

Ever  be  Thou  our  Guide, 
Our  Shepherd  and  our  Pride, 

Our  Staif  and  Song  : 
Jesus,  Thou  Christ  of  God, 
By  Thy  perennial  word 
Lead  us  where  Thou  hast  trod ; 

Make  our  faith  strong. 

So  now,  and  till  we  die, 
Sound  we  Thy  praises  high, 

And  joyful  sing  : 
Infants,  and  the  glad  throng 
Who  to  Thy  Church  belong 
Unite  to  swell  the  song 
To  Christ  our  King. 


"Jesus,  Still  Lead  On." 

Count  Zinzendorf. 

THE  noble  Nicolaus  Ludwig,  Count  von  Zinzen- 
dorf, was  born  in  Dresden,  Germany,  May  26, 
1700.  While  he  was  a  school  boy  he  heard  of  the 
missionary  work  in  the  East  Indies,  and  formed  a 
missionary  society  among  his  boy  friends,  called 
"  The  Order  of  the  Grain  of  Mustard  Seed."  When 
he  was  fifteen  years  old,  he  entered  into  a  covenant 
with  a  friend  of  his,  promising  that  he  would  give 
his  life  to  the  spread  of  Christianity,  especially  in  the 
places  where  no  one  else  wanted  to  go. 

One  day  he  saw  the  famous  picture,  Sternberg's 
**  Ecce  Homo,"  **  Behold  the  Man,"  showing  Pilate 
presenting  Christ  to  the  mocking  throng.  Beneath 
it  is  a  Latin  motto  which,  translated,  is : — 


'*  I  have  done  this  for  thee; 
What  hast  thou  done  for  Me  ? ' 


The  picture  and  motto  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
him,  and  caused  him  to  renew  his  vows  of  whole- 
hearted service.  When  he  was  married,  in  1722,  he 
and  his  noble  wife  agreed,  on  their  wedding  day,  to 
lay  aside  their  rank,  and  give  themselves  up  to  the 
winning  of  men  to  Christ. 

The  great  opportunity  of  Zinzendorf's  life  came  to 

304 


Jesus,  Still  Lead  On  305 

him  when  a  band  of  persecuted  Moravians,  led  by 
Christian  David,  settled  in  his  own  town  of  Berthels- 
dorf.  They  had  been  driven  from  home  by  the 
Roman  Catholics,  and  their  condition  moved  Zin- 
zendorf  to  give  them  aid.  He  soon  became  deeply 
attached  to  the  heroic  Protestants,  and  became  their 
second  leader.  He  established  them  in  their  famous 
community  of  Herrnhut,  made  laws  for  them,  fash- 
ioned for  them  a  beautiful  order  of  service,  and  gave 
his  life  to  the  development  of  their  church. 

How  Zinzendorf  and  his  Moravians  founded  Mora- 
vian missions  is  one  of  the  most  thrilling  stories  in 
all  missionary  annals.  They  heard  of  the  great  need 
for  the  gospel  in  Greenland  and  among  the  slaves  of 
the  West  Indies,  and  at  once,  with  eagerness,  they 
sprang  to  meet  the  need.  The  sufferings  of  those 
pioneer  missionaries  are  almost  beyond  belief. 
Poverty,  disease,  imprisonment,  hostility,  loneliness, 
failure,  all  kinds  of  trials,  were  met  by  them  with 
patience  and  undaunted  zeal.  We  call  William 
Carey  the  founder  of  modern  missions ;  but  when 
he  went  to  India,  the  Moravians  already  had  165 
missionaries  at  work  in  all  parts  of  the  world. 

In  all  this  labor  Zinzendorf  was  a  leader.  He  had 
many  enemies,  and  at  last  the  constant  misrepre- 
sentations of  these  foes  procured  his  banishment  from 
his  native  land.  It  was  during  this  exile  that  he 
visited  America.  He  preached  Christ  zealously 
among  the  Indians,  and  at  Bethlehem,  Penn.,  he 
established  what  is  to  this  day  the  great  centre  of 
Moravian  work  on  this  continent. 

In   1749   Zinzendorf  was  entirely  cleared  of  the 


3o6  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

charges  that  had  been  made  against  him,  and  the 
government  not  only  asked  him  to  return,  but  re- 
quested him  to  form  other  model  communities  like 
Herrnhut.  So  the  great  and  good  man  passed  the 
last  years  of  his  life  peacefully  at  Berthelsdorf,  and 
when  he  died  in  1760,  his  body  was  carried  to  the 
grave  by  thirty-two  missionaries  and  preachers,  from 
Holland,  England,  Ireland,  North  America,  and 
Greenland. 

The  Moravians  made  much  of  song,  as  they  still 
do.  Zinzendorf  wrote  more  that  two  thousand 
hymns,  all  of  them  expressing  his  deep  devotion. 
One  of  the  best-known  of  these  was  translated  by 
John  Wesley,  and  begins,  **  Jesus,  Thy  blood  and 
righteousness."  But  of  all  Zinzendorf's  writings,  the 
favorite  is  certainly  the  hymn  here  given,  **  Jesus, 
still  lead  on."  It  seems  to  embody  all  of  Count 
Zinzendorf's  heroic  life.  I  give  the  translation  made 
by  Miss  Jane  Borthwick  : — 

Jesus,  still  lead  on, 

Till  our  rest  be  won ; 
And  although  the  way  be  cheerless, 
We  will  follow,  calm  and  fearless ; 

Guide  us  by  Thy  hand 

To  our  Fatherland. 

If  the  way  be  drear, 

If  the  foe  be  near, 
Let  not  faithless  fears  o'ertake  us. 
Let  not  faith  and  hope  forsake  us ; 

For,  through  many  a  foe, 

To  our  home  we  go. 


Jesus,  Still  Lead  On  307 

When  we  seek  relief 

From  a  long-felt  grief. 
When  temptations  come,  alluring, 
Make  us  patient  and  enduring  j 

Show  us  that  bright  shore 

Where  we  weep  no  more. 

Jesus,  still  lead  on, 

Till  our  rest  be  won  ; 
Heavenly  Leader,  still  direct  us. 
Still  support,  console,  protect  us, 

Till  we  safely  stand 

In  our  Fatherland. 


"O  Master,  Let  Me  Walk  with  Thee." 
Washington  Gladden. 

REV.  WASHINGTON  GLADDEN,  D.  D., 
LL.  D.,  who  wrote  this  beautiful  hymn  which 
is  in  most  of  our  hymn-books,  is  a  distinguished 
Congregational  clergyman.  He  was  born  in  Potts- 
grove,  Penn.,  February  ii,  1836.  He  was  until 
recently  active  in  the  ministry,  being  a  busy  pastor 
in  Columbus,  O.,  and  he  has  been  honored  with  the 
chief  post  in  his  denomination,  the  moderatorship  of 
the  National  Council. 

Dr.  Gladden  has  been  an  editor  of  The  Independ- 
ent, and  also  of  Sunday  Afternoon.  It  was  while  he 
was  editor  of  the  latter  magazine  that  he  wrote  the 
poem  from  which  his  famous  hymn  was  taken.  It 
appeared  in  March,  1879,  with  three  eight-line 
stanzas.  The  second  of  these,  which  is  not  included 
in  the  hymn  as  printed  in  our  hymn-books,  was  as 
follows :  — 

O  Master,  let  me  walk  with  Thee 
Before  the  taunting  Pharisee ; 
Help  me  to  bear  the  sting  of  spite, 
The  hate  of  men  who  hide  Thy  light, 
The  sore  distrust  of  souls  sincere 
Who  cannot  read  Thy  judgments  clear, 
The  duHness  of  the  multitude, 
Who  dimly  guess  that  Thou  are  good. 
308 


O  Master,  Let  Me  Walk  with  Thee  309 

These  lines  Dr.  Gladden  himself  would  exclude 
from  the  hymn,  for  he  says  he  had  no  intention  of 
writing  a  hymn  when  the  poem  was  composed  ;  and 
yet  they  are  remarkably  fine.  The  remainder  of  the 
poem,  as  we  sing  it,  is  this  :  — 

O  Master,  let  me  walk  with  Thee 
In  lowly  paths  of  service  free ; 
Tell  me  Thy  secret ;  help  me  bear 
The  strain  of  toil,  the  fret  of  care. 

Help  me  the  slow  of  heart  to  move 
By  some  clear  winning  word  of  love ; 
Teach  me  the  wayward  feet  to  stay. 
And  guide  them  in  the  homeward  way. 

Teach  me  Thy  patience  ;  still  with  Thee 
In  closer,  dearer  company. 
In  work  that  keeps  faith  sweet  and  strong. 
In  trust  that  triumphs  over  wrong. 

In  hope  that  sends  a  shining  ray 
Far  down  the  future's  broadening  way, 
In  peace  that  only  Thou  canst  give, 
With  Thee,  O  Master,  let  me  live  ! 

Dr.  Gladden  has  written  other  hymns,  though 
none  have  won  so  great  favor  as  this.  He  has 
written  many  books  of  essays,  studies  of  social  ques- 
tions, volumes  on  the  Bible,  and  one  charming  col- 
lection of  Christmas  stories.  He  is  a  favorite  public 
speaker  and  lecturer. 


"  I  Do  Not  Ask,  O  Lord,  That  Life 

May  Be." 

Adelaide  Amie  Procter. 

ADELAIDE  ANNE  PROCTER  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  famous  poet,  Bryan  Waller  Procter, 
who  wrote  under  the  name  of  **  Barry  Cornwall." 
She  was  born  in  London  in  1825,  and  died  in  Lon- 
don in  1864,  in  her  thirty-ninth  year. 

She  was  a  precocious  child.  Before  she  could 
write  herself  she  got  her  mother  to  copy  for  her  into 
an  album  some  of  her  favorite  poems.  "  It  looks," 
wrote  her  friend,  Charles  Dickens,  "  as  if  she  had 
carried  the  book  about  as  another  little  girl  might 
have  carried  a  doll."  She  became  a  fine  scholar, 
easily  learning  mathematics,  French,  Italian,  and 
German.  She  was  skilful  in  playing  on  the  piano 
and  in  drawing.     She  was  a  great  reader. 

Her  father  had  no  idea  that  his  girl  could  write 
poetry  till  he  saw  her  first  little  poem  in  print. 
Dickens  published  many  of  her  poems  in  his  maga- 
zine without  knowing  who  wrote  them,  because  she 
sent  them  under  the  pen  name  of  Mary  Berwick. 
This  was  because  Dickens  and  her  father  were  warm 
friends,  and  she  was  afraid  that  if  she  offered  her 
verses  under  her  own  name  the  great  novelist  would 
take  them  to  please  her  father,  even  though  they 
might  be  unworthy,  or  that  he  would  be  placed  in 

310 


I  Do  Not  Ask,  O  Lord,  That  Life  May  Be     311 

an  awkward  predicament  if  he  wanted  to  return 
them.  "  Perhaps,"  Dickens  wrote  afterward,  '*  it 
requires  an  editor's  experience  of  the  profoundly 
unreasonable  grounds  on  which  he  is  often  urged  to 
accept  unsuitable  articles — such  as  having  been  to 
school  with  the  writer's  husband's  brother-in-law, 
or  having  lent  an  alpen-stock  in  Switzerland  to  the 
writer's  wife's  nephew,  when  that  interesting  stran- 
ger had  broken  his  own — fully  to  appreciate  the 
delicacy  and  self-respect  of  this  resolution." 

In  1858  Miss  Procter  published  a  volume  of  poems, 
**  Legends  and  Lyrics,"  which  at  once  placed  her 
very  close  to  Mrs.  Browning  and  Miss  Rossetti  as  a 
poet.  From  this  volume  her  hymns  are  taken.  Be- 
sides the  one  printed  here  we  often  use  "  I  thank 
Thee,  O  my  God,  who  made  The  earth  so  bright," 
"  The  shadows  of  the  evening  hours,"  **  One  by  one 
the  sands  are  flowing,"  and  "  Strive,  yet  I  do  not 
promise."  She  wrote  the  famous  song,  '*  The  Lost 
Chord,"  which  Sir  Arthur  S.  Sullivan  set  to  music 
while  sitting  by  the  death-bed  of  his  brother. 

In  185 1  Miss  Procter  became  a  Roman  Catholic, 
and  gave  herself  up  to  the  care  of  the  poor  in  such 
an  eager  way  that  she  lost  her  health  and  brought 
on  a  sickness  which  confined  her  to  her  bed  for 
fifteen  months,  finally  carrying  her  off.  Always 
cheerful  and  vivacious,  during  this  long  confinement 
to  the  sick-room  her  cheerfulness,  says  Dickens, 
never  left  her,  and  the  novelist  tells  how  she  passed 
from  earth  with  the  exclamation,  **  It  has  come  at 
last ! "  and  with  a  bright,  happy  smile. 

The  hymn  before  us  was  first  written  in  a  form 


312  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

different  from  that  which  it  finally  assumed,  and  was 
entitled  **  Resignation."  In  later  editions  of  her 
poems  it  was  changed  to  its  present  form  and  was 
given  the  title,  **  Per  Pacem  ad  Lucenty^  that  is, 
**  Through  Peace  to  Light."  Here  is  the  hymn  in 
full. 

I  do  not  ask,  O  Lord,  that  life  may  be 

A  pleasant  road ; 
I  do  not  ask  that  Thou  wouldst  take  from  me 

Aught  of  its  load  j 

I  do  not  ask  that  flowers  should  always  spring 

Beneath  my  feet ; 
I  know  too  well  the  poison  and  the  sting 

Of  things  too  sweet. 

For  one  thing  only,  Lord,  dear  Lord,  I  plead  ] 

Lead  me  aright  — 
Though    strength    should     falter,   and  though 
heart  should  bleed  — 

Through  peace  to  light. 

I  do  not  ask,  O  Lord,  that  Thou  shouldst  shed 

Full  radiance  here  j 
Give  but  a  ray  of  peace,  that  I  may  tread 

Without  a  fear. 

I  do  not  ask  my  cross  to  understand, 

My  way  to  see ; 
Better  in  darkness  just  to  feel  Thy  hand, 

And  follow  Thee. 

Joy  is  like  restless  day ;  but  peace  divine 

Like  quiet  night ; 
Lead  me,  O  Lord,  till  perfect  day  shall  shine, 

Through  peace  to  light. 


"Walk  in  the  Light:   So  Shalt  Thou  Know." 
Bernard  BartoJt. 

BERNARD  BARTON,  who  wrote  this  hymn, 
was  often  called,  like  Whittier,  '*  The  Quaker 
Poet."  He  was  born  in  a  Quaker  family  in  London, 
January  31,  1784,  and  he  was  a  Quaker  all  his  life. 

Educated  in  a  Quaker  school,  he  worked  in  a  shop 
for  eight  years,  then  became  a  coal  and  corn  dealer, 
then  a  private  tutor,  and  finally  spent  the  last  forty 
years  of  his  life  as  a  bank  clerk.  He  died  February 
19,  1849. 

Barton  wrote  ten  volumes  of  poems.  His  first 
volume,  issued  in  18 12,  won  the  favorable  notice  of 
Robert  Southey.  The  poems  he  published  in  1820 
obtained  for  him  the  friendship  of  a  very  different 
man.  Lord  Byron.  Sir  Robert  Peel  gained  for  him 
a  state  pension  of  $500,  which  he  received  for  several 
years. 

About  twenty  of  Barton's  hymns  have  found  their 
way  into  use,  one  of  the  best  known  being  **  Lamp 
of  our  feet,  whereby  we  trace  Our  path  when  wont 
to  stray."  The  hymn  before  us,  however,  is  by  far 
his  best-known  hymn.  Published  in  1826,  it  has 
been  found  in  many  of  our  leading  hymn-books. 
The  theme  is  one  that  is  very  dear  to  all  members 
of  the  society  of  Friends,  who  lay  so  much  stress 
upon  ''  the  inner  light." 

313 


314  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

I  give  the  hymn  with  all  its  six  stanzas,  though 
some  hymn-books  omit  the  fourth,  and  nearly  all 
omit  the  second  :  — 

Walk  in  the  light :  so  shalt  thou  know 

That  fellowship  of  love 
His  spirit  only  can  bestow, 

Who  reigns  in  light  above. 

Walk  in  the  light :  and  sin  abhorred 

Shall  ne'er  defile  again ; 
The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  thy  Lord 

Shall  cleanse  from  every  stain. 

Walk  in  the  light :  and  thou  shalt  find 

Thy  heart  made  truly  His 
Who  dwells  in  cloudless  light  enshrined, 

In  whom  no  darkness  is. 

Walk  in  the  light :  and  thou  shalt  own 

Thy  darkness  passed  away. 
Because  that  Light  hath  on  thee  shone 

In  which  is  perfect  day. 

Walk  in  the  light :   and  e'en  the  tomb 

No  fearful  shade  shall  wear ; 
Glory  shall  chase  away  its  gloom, 

For  Christ  hath  conquered  there. 

Walk  in  the  light :   and  thine  shall  be 

A  path,  though  thorny,  bright ; 
For  God.  by  grace,  shall  dwell  in  thee, 

And  God  Himself  is  lis^ht. 


"America,  the  Beautiful.'* 

Katharme  Lee  Bates. 

THE  United  States  has  a  number  of  national 
hymns,  each  with  many  fine  qualities,  and  each 
also  with  some  defects  that  prevent  its  acceptance  as 
the  final  and  entirely  satisfactory  national  hymn.  A 
new  hymn,  entitled  *'  America,  the  Beautiful,"  seems 
to  me  to  be  finer  and  more  appropriate  than  any  of 
the  others,  and  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  see  it 
growing  in  favor  till  it  has  become  the  recognized 
hymn  of  our  country. 

This  hymn  was  written  by  Miss  Katharine  Lee 
Bates,  who  was  born  in  Falmouth,  Mass.,  in  1859. 
She  was  graduated  from  Wellesley  College  in  1880, 
and  then  taught  mathematics,  classics,  and  English 
in  the  Natick,  Mass.,  high  school,  and  later  taught 
Latin  in  Dana  Hall,  Wellesley.  In  1885  she  began 
her  work  as  teacher  of  English  literature  in  the  fa- 
mous college  for  girls,  and  since  1891  has  been  the 
professor  of  that  important  subject.  Certainly  no 
one  could  fill  her  place  more  excellently,  and  no  one 
is  a  greater  favorite  with  the  scholars. 

Travel  has  added  to  Miss  Bates's  splendid  equip- 
ment, for  she  has  spent  a  year  in  England,  mainly  at 
Oxford,  a  year  in  France  and  Spain,  and  a  third  year 
in  Switzerland,  Egypt,  Syria,  and  Italy,  not  to  speak 
of  several  summers  spent  in  travel  or  study  abroad. 
These  extensive  travels  are  mentioned  jovially  in  the 

315 


3i6  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

following  amusing  "biography"  of  Professor  Bates 
that  appeared  in  a  college  paper,  The  Echo :  — 

**  Professor  Katharine  Lee  Bates  was  born  midway 
between  ex-President  Roosevelt  and  William  J. 
Bryan,  at  Falmouth,  Mass.,  where  her  cradle  may  be 
seen  on  exhibition  in  the  town  hall. 

"She  entered  Wellesley  College  one  hundred 
years  after  the  signing  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, and  graduated  as  president  of  her  class  in 
1880. 

"  Since  then  Miss  Bates  has  followed  the  profession 
of  a  teacher  whenever  she  couldn't  help  it,  and  has 
written  many  books. 

"  She  has  wandered  from  the  Charles  River  to  the 
Jordan,  and  from  Pegan  Hill  to  the  Pyramids,  re- 
cently becoming  a  detective  in  the  '  Sure  as  Nails ' 
Detective  Agency.  She  now  lives  in  the  '  Scarab  ' 
on  Curve  Street  in  our  town." 

Miss  Bates  has  written  many  books  and  edited 
many  more.  The  books  she  has  edited  are  nearly 
all  editions  of  English  classics.  Her  **  very  own  " 
books  are  volumes  of  poems,  stories,  travels,  and 
books  on  English  and  American  literature. 

Miss  Bates's  patriotic  hymn,  "America,  the  Beauti- 
ful," was  written  in  Colorado  in  the  summer  of  1893, 
after  a  visit  to  "  the  White  City."  It  was  left  in  the 
author's  note-book  for  the  next  two  years,  and  was 
not  printed  till  July,  1895.  Then  it  came  out  in  The 
Congregationalist.  The  present  form  of  the  hymn, 
however,  differs  quite  materially  from  that  first 
version. 

The  original  version  of  the  hymn  was  set  to  music 


America,  the  Beautiful  317 

by  Silas  G.  Pratt,  and  printed  in  Part  II.  of  "Famous 
Songs,"  published  in  1895  by  Bryan,  Taylor,  and 
Company  of  New  York.  Several  other  composers 
have  written  music  for  the  lovely  words,  and  among 
these  various  settings  my  own  preference  is  for  the 
very  rich  and  noble  music  composed  by  Mr.  Charles 
S.  Brown.  Mr.  Brown's  composition  is  to  be  found 
in  the  Christian  Endeavor  hymn-books,  ''Junior 
Carols,"  "The  Praise  Book,"  and  "Jubilant  Praise." 
Here  are  the  words  of  the  hymn,  and  the  version 
given  has  passed  under  Miss  Bates's  eyes  and  has 
been  declared  to  be  the  correct  one :  — 

O  beautiful  for  spacious  skies, 

For  amber  waves  of  grain, 
For  purple  mountain  majesties 

Above  the  fruited  plain  ! 
America  !     America ! 

God  shed  His  grace  on  thee 
And  crown  thy  good  with  brotherhood 

From  sea  to  shining  sea  ! 

O  beautiful  for  pilgrim  feet, 

Whose  stern,  impassioned  stress 
A  thoroughfare  for  freedom  beat 

Across  the  wilderness  ! 
America  !     America  ! 

God  mend  thine  every  flaw, 
Confirm  thy  soul  in  self-control, 

Thy  liberty  in  law  ! 

O  beautiful  for  heroes  proved 

In  liberating  strife, 
Who  more  than  self  their  country  loved, 

And  mercy  more  than  life  ! 


3i8  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

America !     America ! 
May  God  thy  gold  refine, 
Till  all  success  be  nobleness, 
And  every  gain  divine  ! 

O  beautiful  for  patriot  dream 

That  sees  beyond  the  years 
Thine  alabaster  cities  gleam 

Undimmed  by  human  tears  ! 
America  !     America  ! 

God  shed  His  grace  on  thee 
And  crown  thy  good  with  brotlierhood 

From  sea  to  shining  sea  ! 


"Saviour!   Teach  Me  Day  by  Day/' 

Jane  Elizabeth  Leeso7t. 

ABOUT  the  author  of  this  hymn,  Miss  Jane 
Elizabeth  Leeson,  very  little  is  known.  This 
is  because  of  her  extreme  modesty  and  retiring  dis- 
position. She  wrote  a  dozen  volumes,  but  insisted 
that  all  of  them  should  first  be  published  without  her 
name.  She  was  born  in  England  in  1815,  and  died 
in  1883.  For  many  years  she  was  a  member  of  the 
Church  of  England,  but  toward  the  end  of  her  life 
she  became  a  Roman  Catholic. 

Nearly  all  of  Miss  Leeson's  books  were  poetical, 
and  nearly  all  were  written  for  children.  Perhaps 
the  best  known  is  **  Hymns  and  Scenes  of  Child- 
hood." The  hymn  here  given,  taken  from  that 
book,  is  by  far  the  most  famous  of  her  hymns,  but 
another  that  is  often  sung  is  **  Sweet  the  lessons 
Jesus  taught." 

Saviour  !  teach  me,  day  by  day, 
Love's  sweet  lesson  to  obey ; 
Sweeter  lesson  cannot  be, 
Loving  Him  who  first  loved  me. 

With  a  childlike  heart  of  love. 
At  Thy  bidding  may  I  move; 
Prompt  to  serve  and  follow  Thee, 
Loving  Him  who  first  loved  me. 

3^9 


320  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Teach  me  all  Thy  steps  to  trace, 
Strong  to  follow  in  Thy  grace  ; 
Learning  how  to  love  from  Thee, 
Loving  Him  who  first  loved  me. 

Love  in  loving  finds  employ  — 
In  obedience  all  her  joy  ; 
Ever  new  that  joy  will  be, 
Loving  Him  who  first  loved  me. 

Thus  may  I  rejoice  to  show 
That  I  feel  the  love  I  owe ; 
Singing,  till  Thy  face  I  see, 
Of  His  love  who  first  loved  me. 


"Come,  Thou  Fount  of  Every  Blessing." 
Robert  Robinson. 

THIS  hymn,  which  is  one  of  the  noblest  ever 
written,  was  composed  by  Rev.  Robert  Robin- 
son. Its  writer  was  born  in  Swaffham,  England, 
September  27,  1735,  and  died  as  he  had  wished  to 
die,  "  softly,  suddenly,  and  alone,"  being  found  dead 
in  his  bed  on  the  morning  of  June  9,  1790. 

He  was  a  poor  boy,  the  only  support  of  his 
mother,  "and  she  was  a  widow."  At  the  age  of 
fourteen,  he  became  apprentice  to  a  barber  in 
London,  where  he  seems  to  have  been  none  of  the 
steadiest.  At  one  time  he  made  a  gypsy  fortune- 
teller drunk,  and  while  she  was  under  the  influence 
of  liquor  she  prophesied  that  the  lad  would  "  see  his 
children  and  his  grandchildren." 

The  prophecy  made  a  deep  impression  upon  the 
young  fellow,  and  he  decided  to  make  something  of 
himself,  for  the  sake  of  these  unborn  descendants. 
He  became  a  convert  of  the  great  preacher,  George 
Whitefield,  and  at  once  began  to  preach  on  his  own 
account.  He  joined  the  Baptists,  and  was  made 
pastor  of  a  small  church  in  Cambridge. 

In  that  university  town  he  passed  nearly  all  of  the 
remainder  of  his  life,  honored  even  by  the  scholars 
of  the  place,  since  he  was  himself  also  a  scholar  by 
the  power  of  his  mind,  though  he  had  none  of  a 
scholar's  training.     He  published  several  volumes, 

321 


322  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

and  his  sermons  are  full  of  a  quaint  common  sense. 
The  great  preacher,  Robert  Hall,  who  followed  him 
in  the  same  church,  was  his  spiritual  successor  also, 
just  as,  in  later  years,  the  eminent  Spurgeon  became 
the  disciple  of  Robert  Hall. 

Robinson  was  a  practical  man,  and  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  take  up  farming  to  eke  out  his  scanty  in- 
come. He  was  a  man  of  large  and  liberal  temper, 
though  a  true  believer  in  orthodox  religion.  For 
this  reason  I  am  inclined  to  doubt  the  anecdote  of 
Mr.  Robinson's  conversation  with  a  lady  whom  he  is 
said  to  have  met  in  a  stage  coach.  She  forced  the 
talk  to  the  subject  of  religion,  and  at  last  quoted  his 
own  hymn,  *'  Come,  thou  Fount  of  every  blessing," 
speaking  of  the  blessings  it  had  brought  to  her. 
Upon  this  Robinson  is  said  to  have  exclaimed, 
"  Madam,  I  am  the  poor  unhappy  man  who  com- 
posed that  hymn,  many  years  ago,  and  I  would  give 
a  thousand  worlds,  if  I  had  them,  to  enjoy  the  feel- 
ings I  had  then." 

Mr.  Robinson  is  not  known  to  have  written  more 
than  two  hymns.  One  of  these  begins,  **  Mighty  God, 
while  angels  bless  Thee,"  and  the  other  is  the  fol- 
lowing hymn,  which  was  composed  probably  in  1757. 

Come,  thou  Fount  of  every  blessing, 
Tune  my  heart  to  sing  Thy  grace ; 

Streams  of  mercy,  never  ceasing, 
Call  for  songs  of  loudest  praise. 

Teach  me  some  melodious  sonnet, 
Sung  by  flaming  tongues  above; 

Praise  the  mount !     I'm  fixed  upon  it, 
Mount  of  God's  unchanging  love ! 


Come,  Thou  Fount  of  Every  Blessing        323 

Here  I  raise  my  Ebenezer ; 

Hither  by  Thy  help  I'm  come; 
And  1  hope,  by  Thy  good  pleasure, 

Safely  to  arrive  at  home. 

Jesus  sought  me  when  a  stranger, 
Wandering  from  the  fold  of  God ; 

He,  to  rescue  me  from  danger, 
Interposed  His  precious  blood. 

Oh,  to  grace  how  great  a  debtor 

Daily  I'm  constrained  to  be ! 
Let  that  grace  now,  like  a  fetter, 

Bind  my  wandering  heart  to  Thee. 

Prone  to  wander,  Lord,  I  feel  it ; 

Prone  to  leave  the  God  I  love ; 
Here's  my  heart ;  oh,  take  and  seal  it, — 

Seal  it  for  Thy  courts  above  ! 


"  Sunset  and  Evening  Star." 
Alfred  Tennyson, 

ALFRED    TENNYSON,   the   greatest  poet  of 
Victoria's  reign,  left  to  the  world  no  legacy 
more  precious  than  the  hymn  before  us. 

He  was  born  on  August  6,  1809,  and  with  his 
brother  Charles  he  published  a  volume  of  poems  in 
his  eighteenth  year.  At  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
he  won  a  prize  for  a  poem,  and  when  he  was  twenty- 
one  he  put  forth  a  book  of  poems  which  at  once 
made  him  famous.  He  succeeded  Wordsworth  as 
poet  laureate,  and  for  more  than  sixty  years  was  the 
chief  man  of  letters  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  In 
1883  he  became  Lord  Tennyson,  and  on  October  6, 
1892,  the  great  poet  passed  away. 

In  1889,  when  Tennyson  was  in  his  eighty-first 
year,  he  wrote  the  hymn,  "  Crossing  the  Bar."  It  is 
the  only  hymn  he  ever  wrote,  if  we  except  the  little 
children's  hymn,  ''  O  man,  forgive  thy  mortal  foe," 
in  "■  The  Promise  of  May,"  and  the  opening  stanzas 
of  **  In  Memoriam,"  **  Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal 
Love,"  which  are  sometimes  used  as  a  hymn.  The 
poem  was  written  after  a  walk  along  the  shore  with 
the  sound  of  the  sea  in  his  ears,  and  soon  after  his 
return  he  showed  the  verses  to  his  son,  who  said  at 
once,  "  That  is  the  crown  of  your  life's  work."  *'  It 
came  in  a  moment,"  said  Tennyson. 

324 


Sunset  and  Evening  Star  325 

Some  lines  of  the  hymn  have  been  misunderstood. 
By  the  Pilot,  the  poet  meant,  as  he  said,  "  that  Di- 
vine and  Unseen  who  is  always  guiding  us."  **  The 
dark"  means,  he  said,  *'  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death."  The  '*  call  for  me "  is  the  voice  of  the 
turning  tide,  ready  to  float  the  vessel  of  life  out  into 
the  great  unknown.  The  pilot,  of  course,  is  in 
charge  of  a  ship  while  it  is  crossing  the  bar ;  but  in 
our  voyage  of  life  we  do  not  see  our  Pilot  **  face  to 
face "  until  after  we  have  crossed  the  bar.  Tenny- 
son was  profoundly  religious,  and  this  poem  beauti- 
fully expresses  the  deepest  thoughts  of  his  heart. 
Once  he  said,  "  What  the  sun  is  to  that  flower,  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  to  my  soul." 

*'  Crossing  the  Bar  "  is  placed,  at  Tennyson's  re- 
quest, at  the  end  of  all  editions  of  his  poems.  It 
was  most  fitting  that  it  should  have  been  sung  dur- 
ing the  poet's  funeral  in  Westminster  Abbey.  Lady 
Tennyson  herself  wrote  music  for  it,  and  another  set- 
ting has  been  made  by  Sir  Joseph  Barnby.  The 
words  of  the  hymn  are  printed  here  just  as  Tenny- 
son wrote  them  : — 


Sunset  and  evening  star. 

And  one  clear  call  for  me  ! 
And  may  there  be  no  moaning  of  the  bar 

When  I  put  out  to  sea. 

But  such  a  tide  as  moving  seems  asleep, 

Too  full  for  sound  and  foam, 
When  that  which  drew  from  out  the  boundless  deep 

Turns  again  home. 


326  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Twilight  and  evening  bell, 

And  after  that  the  dark  ! 
And  may  there  be  no  sadness  of  farewell 

When  I  embark ; 

For,  though  from  out  our  bourne  of  time  and  place 

The  flood  may  bear  me  far, 
I  hope  to  see  my  Pilot  face  to  face 

When  I  have  crost  the  bar. 


"  Immortal  Love,  for  Ever  Full." 
John  Greenleaf  Whittier. 

THE  beloved  Quaker  poet,  John  Greenleaf 
Whittier,  was  born  at  Haverhill,  Mass.,  De- 
cember 17,  1807.  He  died  September  7,  1892.  At 
first  he  was  a  farmer's  boy  and  a  shoemaker.  Then 
he  edited  a  number  of  papers,  among  them  The 
Pennsylvania  Freemari,  pubHshed  in  Philadelphia. 
Because  of  his  antislavery  principles,  the  office  of 
this  paper  was  burned  by  a  mob. 

Whittier  became  one  of  the  great  antislavery 
leaders  of  the  country,  and  many  of  his  poems  are 
bugle-blasts  for  that  cause.  The  poet  was  at  one 
time  a  member  of  the  Massachusetts  legislature.  He 
wrote  the  stirring  hymn  for  the  opening  of  the  Cen- 
tennial Exposition  in  Philadelphia.  His  most  famous 
poem  is  probably  **  Snow-Bound." 

Many  hymns  have  been  taken  from  Whittier's 
works,  usually  from  the  midst  of  longer  poems.  He 
himself  wrote  modestly  :  '*  I  am  really  not  a  hymn- 
writer,  for  the  good  reason  that  I  know  nothing  of 
music.  Only  a  very  few  of  my  pieces  were  written 
for  singing.  A  good  hymn  is  the  best  use  to  which 
poetry  can  be  devoted,  but  I  do  not  claim  that  I 
have  succeeded  in  composing  one." 

Notwithstanding,  there  are  few  hymns  in  our 
hymn-books  that  we  would  not  rather  lose  than  the 

327 


328  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

beautiful  religious  poem  given  below.  The  seven 
stanzas  usually  sung  are  taken  from  a  very  much 
longer  poem,  one  of  Whittier's  best,  **  Our  Master," 
published  in  1856.  It  is  often  made  to  begin  with 
different  stanzas  ;  I  give  all  that  are  ever  used  as  a 
hymn. 

Among  other  hymns  by  Whittier  are  ''  All  as  God 
wills,  who  wisely  heeds,"  **  Dear  Lord  and  Father  of 
mankind,"  ''  O  sometimes  gleams  upon  our  sight," 
and  *'  When  on  my  day  of  life  the  night  is  falling." 

Immortal  love,  for  ever  full, 

For  ever  flowing  free, 
For  ever  shared,  for  ever  whole, 

A  never  ebbing  sea  ! 

Our  outward  lips  confess  the  name 

All  other  names  above ; 
Love  only  knoweth  whence  it  came, 

And  comprehendeth  love. 

We  may  not  climb  the  heavenly  steeps 
To  bring  the  Lord  Christ  down  ; 

In  vain  we  search  the  lowest  deeps, 
For  Him  no  depths  can  drown. 

But  warm,  sweet,  tender,  even  yet 

A  present  help  is  He ; 
And  Faith  has  still  its  Olivet, 

And  love  its  Galilee. 

The  healing  of  His  seamless  dress 

Is  by  our  beds  of  pain  ; 
We  touch  Him  in  life's  throng  and  press. 

And  we  are  whole  again. 


Immortal  Love,  for  Ever  Full  329 

Through  Him  the  first  fond  prayers  are  said 

Our  lips  of  childhood  frame, 
The  last  low  whispers  of  our  dead 

Are  burdened  with  His  name. 

O  Lord  and  Master  of  us  all ! 

Whate'er  our  name  or  sign, 
We  own  Thy  sway,  we  hear  Thy  call, 

We  test  our  lives  by  Thine. 


"Shall  We  Gather  at  the  River?'' 

Robert  Lowry. 

THIS  beautiful  and  very  popular  hymn  was 
written  by  Rev.  Robert  Lowry,  D.  D.  He  was 
born  in  Philadelphia,  March  12,  1826,  and  died  at 
a  good  old  age  in  1899.  Educated  at  Lewisburg 
University  in  Pennsylvania,  he  became  a  Baptist 
minister  in  New  York,  Brooklyn,  and  other  cities, 
and  professor  of  belles-lettres  in  Lewisburg  Uni- 
versity. 

Dr.  Lowry  was  editor  of  ten  or  a  dozen  of  the 
most  popular  Sunday-school  song-books  ever  pub- 
lished, and  he  contributed  to  these  some  of  their 
best  hymns  and  tunes.  Among  his  hymns  that  are 
most  widely  sung  are  *'  My  life  flows  on  in  endless 
song,"  ''  One  more  day's  work  for  Jesus,"  and 
**  Where  is  my  wandering  boy  to-night  ?  "  For  all 
of  these  he  also  wrote  the  tunes. 

But  Dr.  Lowry's  most  famous  hymn  is  "  Shall  we 
gather  at  the  river  ?  "  He  wrote  the  words  when  a 
pastor  in  Brooklyn,  on  a  hot  July  day  in  1864.  A 
very  severe  epidemic  was  raging  in  Brooklyn,  and 
hundreds  were  passing  over  the  river  of  death. 
Dr.  Lowry  was  thinking  of  the  sad  scenes  all  around 
him  when  the  question  arose  in  his  mind,  "  Shall  we 
meet  again?  We  are  parting  at  the  river  of  death; 
shall  we  meet  at  the  river  of  life  ?  " 


Shall  ^Ve  Gather  at  the  River  ?  331 

With  his  heart  full  of  these  thoughts,  he  seated 
himself  at  his  parlor  organ,  and  both  the  words  and 
the  music  of  the  famous  hymn  came  to  him  as  if  by 
inspiration.  It  was  published  the  following  year  in 
**  Happy  Voices,"  as  a  hymn  of  five  stanzas  and  a 
chorus : — 

Shall  we  gather  at  the  river, 

Where  bright  angel-feet  have  trod, 

With  its  crystal  tide  forever 
Flowing  by  the  throne  of  God  ? 

Chorus  : 

Yes,  we'll  gather  at  the  river, 

The  beautiful,  the  beautiful  river ; 
Gather  with  the  saints  at  the  river 

That  flows  by  the  throne  of  God. 

On  the  margin  of  the  river, 

Washing  up  its  silver  spray, 
We  will  walk  and  worship  ever 

All  the  happy,  golden  day. 

Ere  we  reach  the  shining  river. 

Lay  we  every  burden  down ; 
Grace  our  spirits  will  deliver. 

And  provide  a  robe  and  crown. 

At  the  smiling  of  the  river, 

Mirror  of  the  Saviour's  face. 
Saints,  whom  death  will  never  sever. 

Lift  their  songs  of  saving  grace. 

Soon  we'll  reach  the  silver  river  ; 

Soon  our  pilgrimage  will  cease; 
Soon  our  happy  hearts  will  quiver 

With  the  melody  of  peace. 


"Throw  Out  the  Life-Line/' 

Edward  Smith  Ufford. 

DR.  CUYLER,  when  he  heard  Mr.  Sankey  sing 
the  stirring  song,  "  Throw  Out  the  Life-Line," 
remarked,  **  There  is  more  electricity  in  that  song 
than  in  any  other  I  have  heard."  It  is  indeed  a 
rousing  appeal,  and  it  has  done  and  is  doing  a 
mighty  work  in  moving  the  consciences  of  men. 

The  writer  of  the  song.  Rev.  Edward  Smith 
Ufford,  is  still  alive,  traveling  widely  and  giving 
illustrated  religious  lectures  based  upon  his  great 
hymn.  He  uses  his  fine  collection  of  life-saving  ap- 
paratus as  a  series  of  object-lessons,  pressing  home 
spiritual  truths  in  a  very  forceful  way.  He  is  a  man 
of  noble  Christian  character,  and  personal  contact 
with  his  strong  faith  and  burning  zeal  has  been  a 
tonic  for  many  thousands. 

Mr.  Ufford  was  born  in  Newark,  N.  J.,  in  185 1. 
He  was  educated  at  Stratford  Academy  in  Connec- 
ticut, and  at  Bates  Theological  Seminary,  Maine. 
He  has  held  several  pastorates  in  Baptist  churches, 
and  has  edited  several  song-books. 

"  Throw  Out  the  Life- Line  "  was  prompted  by  a 
drill  which  Mr.  Ufford  witnessed  at  the  life-saving 
station  on  Point  Allerton,  near  Boston.  A  ship  had 
been  wrecked  near  the  place,  and  the  memory  of 
that,  together  with  the  sight  of  the  life-line  flung  out 

332 


Throw  Out  the  Life-Line  333 

far  over  the  water  and  the  energetic  action  of  the 
Ufe-saving  crew,  put  the  thought  of  the  song  into 
Mr.  Ufford's  mind. 

When  he  reached  home  he  wrote  the  song  rapidly, 
and  then  sat  down  to  his  organ  (for  he  is  a  musician 
as  well  as  poet),  and  in  fifteen  minutes  he  had  com- 
posed the  world-famous  melody.  In  1888  the  song 
was  published  in  sheet-music  form,  and  in  1890,  har- 
monized by  Mr.  Stebbins,  it  was  published  in  a 
song-book.     Here  are  the  thrilling  words  :  — 

Throw  out  the  life-line  across  the  dark  wave ; 
There  is  a  brother  whom  some  one  should  save ; 
Somebody's  brother:  oh,  who  then  will  dare 
To  throw  out  the  life-line,  his  peril  to  share  ? 

Throw  out  the  life-line  with  hand  quick  and  strong  : 

Why  do  you  tarry,  why  linger  so  long  ? 

See  !  he  is  sinking ;  oh,  hasten  to-day 

And  out  with  the  life- boat !  away,  then,  away  ! 

Throw  out  the  life-line  to  danger-fraught  men 
Sinking  in  anguish  where  you've  never  been ; 
Winds  of  temptation  and  billows  of  woe 
Will  soon  hurl  them  out  where  the  dark  waters  flow. 

Soon  will  the  season  of  rescue  be  o'er ; 
Soon  will  they  drift  to  eternity's  shore; 
Haste,  then,  my  brother,  no  time  for  delay. 
But  throw  out  the  life-line  and  save  them  to-day. 

Mr.  UfTord  tells  many  stories  of  the  results  that 
have  come  from  the  singing  of  this  hymn.  Once  in 
Pennsylvania  a  set  of  men  were  playing  cards  and 


334  ^  Treasure  of  Hymns 

drinking  in  a  club-room.  Another  room  in  the 
same  building  had  been  rented  for  religious  meet- 
ings, and  suddenly  the  words  of  **  Throw  Out  the 
Life-Line,"  sung  sweetly  by  a  young  woman,  with  a 
strong  chorus  taking  up  the  refrain,  broke  in  upon 
their  merriment.  The  revelry  was  hushed.  At  last 
one  player  threw  down  his  cards.  *'  If  what  they 
are  singing  is  right,"  he  said,  '*  then  we  are  wrong." 
He  went  home,  and  before  long  the  others  followed 
his  manly  example.  The  club  was  broken  up  by 
that  one  song.  In  countless  other  instances  the 
hymn  has  been  used  to  arouse  men  to  a  sense  of 
their  sin. 

But  of  course  its  chief  use  has  been  to  prompt 
Christians  to  take  up  evangelistic  work.  In  this  it 
has  been  exceedingly  successful.  Thousands  of 
Christians  have  been  moved  by  its  tender  pleading 
to  leave  their  selfish  endeavors,  go  down  to  the  tem- 
pest-torn beach,  and  do  their  best  to  rescue  those 
that  are  battling  with  the  waves  of  sin.  How  many 
"Life-Line  Leagues"  and  similar  organizations 
have  been  named  from  the  hymn  no  one  knows. 
It  has  done  a  glorious  work. 


"  Souls  of  Men,  Why  Will  Ye  Scatter?" 
Frederick  William  Faber, 

THE  author  of  this  hymn  was  a  Roman  Catholic, 
and  yet  many  of  his  beautiful  hymns  are  sung 
with  great  pleasure  by  Protestants.  Frederick  Will- 
iam Faber  was  born  in  England,  June  28,  18 14. 
He  was  a  studious  boy,  and  was  sent  to  Oxford 
University.  There  he  came  under  the  influence  of 
John  Henry  Newman,  who  wrote  **  Lead,  Kindly 
Light."  The  two  men  were  very  much  alike  in 
their  spirits,  and  when  Newman  became  a  Roman 
Catholic  it  might  have  been  foreseen  that  Faber 
would  follow. 

This,  however,  did  not  happen  at  once.  Faber 
traveled  for  four  years  through  Europe,  and  then 
became  a  rector  of  the  Church  of  England.  He  was 
a  successful  preacher  and  a  greatly  beloved  pastor, 
but  at  last  he  decided  to  go  over  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church.  First  at  Birmingham,  and  then 
in  London,  he  served  as  a  priest,  and  died  on  Sep- 
tember 26,  1863,  at  the  early  age  of  49. 

Dr.  Faber  wrote  much  in  both  prose  and  verse. 
His  hymns  number  in  all  150.  They  are  marked  by 
great  sweetness  and  by  many  literary  excellencies, 
and  some  of  them  have  attained  to  wide  popularity. 
Among  the  most  famous  are  the  following  :  "•  There's 
a  wideness  in  God's  mercy,"  ''  Hark  I  hark  !  my  soul, 

335 


336  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

angelic  songs  are  swelling,"  **  O  Paradise,  O  Para- 
dise ! "  "  Sweet  Saviour,  bless  us  ere  we  go,"  *'  O 
God !  Thy  power  is  wonderful,"  *'  O  gift  of  gifts  1 
O  grace  of  faith ! "  **  God's  glory  is  a  wondrous 
thing,"  "My  God  I  How  wonderful  Thou  art,"  "I 
worship  Thee,  sweet  will  of  God." 

Faber's  most  famous  hymn  is  the  one  printed  be- 
low. It  is  usually  referred  to  as  "There's  a  wide- 
ness  in  God's  mercy,"  from  its  most  frequently  used 
stanza ;  but  the  first  stanza  begins,  "  Souls  of  men, 
why  will  ye  scatter?"  It  was  published  in  Faber's 
"Oratory  Hymns"  in  1854,  and  the  full  form  is  as 
follows :  — 

Souls  of  men,  why  will  ye  scatter 

Like  a  crowd  of  frightened  sheep  ? 
Foolish  hearts,  why  will  ye  wander 

From  a  love  so  true  and  deep  ? 
Was  there  ever  kindest  shepherd 

Half  so  gentle,  half  so  sweet. 
As  the  Saviour  who  would  have  us 

Come  and  gather  at  His  feet  ? 

It  is  God  :   His  love  looks  mighty. 

But  is  mightier  than  it  seems. 
'Tis  our  Father,  and  His  fondness 

Goes  far  out  beyond  our  dreams. 
There's  a  wideness  in  God's  mercy, 

Like  the  wideness  of  the  sea  ; 
There's  a  kindness  in  His  justice, 

Which  is  more  than  liberty. 

For  the  love  of  God  is  broader 

Than  the  measures  of  man's  mind, 

And  the  heart  of  the  Eternal 
Is  most  wonderfully  kind. 


Souls  of  Men,  Why  Will  Ye  Scatter  ?        337 

But  we  make  His  love  too  narrow 

By  false  limits  of  our  own, 
And  we  magnify  His  strictness 

With  a  zeal  He  will  not  own. 

There  is  plentiful  redemption 

In  the  blood  that  has  been  shed  ; 
There  is  joy  for  all  the  members 

In  the  sorrows  of  the  Head. 
If  our  love  were  but  more  simple, 

We  should  take  Him  at  His  word  ; 
And  our  lives  would  be  all  sunshine 

In  the  sweetness  of  our  Lord. 


"  Hail  to  the  Brightness  of  Zion's  Glad 

Morning/' 

Thomas  Hastings. 

THIS  beautiful  hymn  was  written  by  Thomas 
Hastings,  one  of  the  greatest  of  American 
hymn-writers.  He  was  born  at  Washington,  Litch- 
field County,  Conn.,  October  15,  1784 — a  century  and 
a  quarter  ago.  His  father  was  a  physician,  and  in 
1796  he  removed  with  his  family  to  CHnton,  N.  Y. 
They  had  to  make  their  way  through  what  was  then 
an  unbroken  wilderness,  and  they  went  in  sleighs 
and  ox-sleds. 

Young  Hastings  was  made  familiar  with  all  the 
duties  of  a  farm  boy.  The  winter  gave  him  his  only 
time  for  schooling,  and  he  was  glad  to  walk  to  school 
six  miles  every  day.  A  twelve-cent  primer  of  music 
consisting  of  only  four  small  pages  gave  him  his 
first  knowledge  of  that  difficult  art.  He  became  a 
leader  of  the  village  choir,  and  entered  upon  the 
study  of  music  in  earnest.  After  many  attempts, 
he  at  last  got  a  situation  as  a  music- teacher — in 
Bridgewater  and  Brookfield,  N.  Y.  The  young 
people  of  those  singing-schools  were  bent  on  having 
a  good  time,  but  Mr.  Hastings  made  them  attend 
also  to  the  business  in  hand,  and  produced  splendid 
results.  In  1816,  Mr.  Hastings  compiled  a  famous 
music-book,  *'  Musica  Sacra."     He  made  it  a  busi- 

338 


Hail  to  the  Brightness  of  Zion's  Glad  Morning    339 

ness  to  train  church  choirs  and  teach  congregations 
how  to  sing,  and  did  this  in  a  number  of  New  York 
cities.  In  1822  he  published  a  book,  "  The  Musical 
Taste,"  arguing  that  religion  has  a  right  to  music  as 
one  of  its  instruments  as  well  as  to  speech. 

In  1823,  Mr.  Hastings  became  editor  of  the 
Recorder^  published  in  Utica.  He  was  to  get  $600 
a  year  if  the  paper  prospered,  but  only  $300  if  it 
did  not!  He  remained  with  the  paper  till,  in  1832, 
twelve  churches  in  New  York  combined  to  obtain 
his  services  as  a  trainer  of  their  choirs,  and  from  that 
time  till  his  death,  in  1872,  Dr.  Hastings  (for  the  col- 
lege degree  of  doctor  of  music  was  given  to  him) 
lived  in  New  York,  and  became  one  of  the  most 
powerful  of  American  forces  for  the  development  of 
religious  music. 

In  spite  of  a  distressing  eye-trouble  which  hindered 
him  all  his  life  (he  was,  with  other  troubles,  exceed- 
ingly near-sighted)  he  accomplished  a  wonderful 
amount  of  work.  He  is  said  to  have  composed 
more  than  one  thousand  hymn  tunes,  the  most  fa- 
mous being  Toplady,  the  tune  of  "  Rock  of  Ages," 
and  Ortonville,  the  tune  of  "  Majestic  sweetness  sits 
enthroned."  He  is  said  to  have  written  six  hundred 
hymns,  though  most  of  them  were  not  signed.  He 
published  fifty  volumes  of  church  music.  Probably 
Fanny  Crosby  alone  has  written  a  larger  number  of 
hymns  that  are  in  common  use — American  writers 
alone  being  considered,  and  the  Wesleys  left  out  of 
account.  Among  Dr.  Hastings's  famous  hymns 
are  :  **  Child  of  sin  and  sorrow,"  **  Delay  not,  delay 
not,  O  sinner,  draw  near,"  "  Gently,  Lord,  O  gently 


340  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

lead  us,"  **  How  calm  and  beautiful  the  morn,"  **  Now 
be  the  gospel  banner,"  "  O  tell  me,  thou  life  and  de- 
light of  my  soul,"  "  To-day  the  Saviour  calls,"  and 
**  He  that  goeth  forth  with  weeping." 

Dr.  Hastings  was  a  Presbyterian,^  and  a  man  of 
great  nobility  of  character.  His  famous  son,  President 
Hastings  of  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  said 
of  him,  "  He  was  a  devout  and  earnest  Christian,  a 
hard  student,  and  a  resolute  worker,  not  laying  aside 
his  pen  until  three  days  before  his  death." 

Probably  Dr.  Hastings's  greatest  hymn  is  the  one 
given  below,  which  was  written  in  1830,  and  was 
called  "  Missionary  Success."     It  is  as  follows  :  — 

Hail  to  the  brightness  of  Zion's  glad  morning  I 
Joy  to  the  lands  that  in  darkness  have  lain  I 

Hushed  be  the  accents  of  sorrow  and  mourning ; 
Zion  in  triumph  begins  her  mild  reign. 

Hail  to  the  brightness  of  Zion's  glad  morning. 
Long  by  the  prophets  of  Israel  foretold  ; 

Hail  to  the  millions  from  bondage  returning ; 
Gentile  and  Jew  the  blest  vision  behold. 

Lo  I  in  the  desert  rich  flowers  are  springing ; 

Streams  ever  copious  are  gliding  along ; 
Loud  from  the  mountain-tops  echoes  are  ringing ; 

Wastes  rise  in  verdure,  and  mingle  in  song. 

See  from  all  lands — from  the  isles  of  the  ocean — 
Praise  of  Jehovah  ascending  on  high  ; 

Fallen  are  the  engines  of  war  and  commotion  ; 
Shouts  of  salvation  are  rending  the  sky. 


"  My  Times  Are  in  Thy  Hand/' 

William  Freeman  Lloyd. 

THIS  New  Year's  hymn  was  written  by  William 
Freeman  Lloyd,  who  lived  in  England  a 
century  ago.  He  was  born  in  Gloucestershire,  De- 
cember 22,  1 79 1.  Sunday-school  work  attracted 
him,  and  he  taught  classes  in  the  college  town  of 
Oxford  and  in  London  itself.  It  meant  much  to  be 
a  Sunday-school  teacher  in  those  early  days  of  the 
Sunday  school. 

Mr.  Lloyd  was  so  active  and  successful  in  this 
work  that  in  1810  he  was  made  one  of  the  secretaries 
of  the  British  Sunday  School  Union,  and  labored  in 
that  important  field  for  many  years.  He  died  in 
Gloucestershire  on  April  22,  1853. 

Besides  the  hymn  given  below,  Mr.  Lloyd  wrote 
one  other  that  is  in  common  use,  **  Wait,  my  soul, 
upon  the  Lord,"  with  its  refrain,  "■  As  thy  days  thy 
strength  shall  be."  Our  hymn  was  written  in  1838, 
and  here  are  its  five  stanzas  :  — 

My  times  are  in  Thy  hand  ; 

My  God,  I  wish  them  there ; 
My  life,  my  friends,  my  soul  I  leave 

Entirely  to  Thy  care. 

My  times  are  in  Thy  hand, 

Whatever  they  may  be ; 
Pleasing  or  painful,  dark  or  bright, 

As  best  may  seem  to  Thee. 
341 


342  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

My  times  are  in  Thy  hand ; 

Why  should  I  doubt  or  fear  ? 
My  father's  hand  will  never  cause 

His  child  a  needless  tear. 

My  times  are  in  Thy  hand, 

Jesus,  the  crucified  1 
Those  hands  my  cruel  sins  had  pierced 

Are  now  my  guard  and  guide. 

My  times  are  in  Thy  hand, 
I'll  always  trust  in  Thee ; 

And,  after  death,  at  Thy  right  hand 
I  shall  forever  be. 


"We  Plough  the  Fields." 
Matthias  Claudius. 

THIS  thanksgiving-  hymn  was  written  by  a  Ger- 
man, Matthias  Claudius,  who  was  born  in 
1740.  Though  he  was  the  son  of  a  Lutheran  min- 
ister and  began  to  study  to  be  a  minister  himself,  he 
turned  to  the  study  of  the  law  and  came  to  lose 
much  of  his  belief  in  religion.  This  tendency  was 
furthered  by  his  acquaintance  with  the  great  poet 
Goethe. 

In  1779,  however,  Claudius  had  a  severe  illness, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  came  to  see  his  folly,  and 
from  that  time  he  was  a  humble,  sweet-spirited 
Christian,  reflecting  his  faith  in  the  poems  he  wrote. 
For  the  most  part  he  spent  his  life  as  an  editor  of 
newspapers,  and  he  contributed  most  of  his  beautiful 
poems  to  various  periodicals.  He  died  in  Hamburg 
in  1815. 

The  only  one  of  his  hymns  that  has  been  trans- 
lated into  English  and  has  been  widely  used  is  the 
one  given  below.  It  is  part  of  a  much  longer  poem 
that  formed  part  of  a  sketch  of  country  life,  in  the 
course  of  which  the  country  people  sang  a  harvest 
song.  The  translation  most  commonly  used  is  by 
Miss  Jane  Montgomery  Campbell,  the  daughter  of 
an  English  clergyman.     It  is  as  follows : — 

343 


344  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

We  plough  the  fields,  and  scatter 

The  good  seed  on  the  land, 
But  it  is  fed  and  watered 

By  God's  almighty  hand  ; 
He  sends  the  snow  in  winter, 

The  warmth  to  swell  the  grain, 
The  breezes  and  the  sunshine, 

And  soft,  refreshing  rain. 

Refrain  : 

All  good  gifts  around  us 

Are  sent  from  heaven  above ; 
Then  thank  the  Lord,  oh,  thank  the  Lord, 
For  all  His  love. 

He  only  is  the  Maker 

Of  all  things  near  and  far  ; 
He  paints  the  wayside  flower, 

He  lights  the  evening  star ; 
The  winds  and  waves  obey  Him ; 

By  Him  the  birds  are  fed ; 
Much  more  to  us,  His  children, 

He  gives  our  daily  bread. 

We  thank  Thee,  then,  O  Father, 

For  all  things  bright  and  good : 
The  seed-time  and  the  harvest. 

Our  life,  our  health,  our  food; 
Accept  the  gifts  we  offer 

For  all  Thy  love  imparts, 
And,  what  Thou  most  desirest, 

Our  humble,  thankful  hearts. 


"Oh,  Still  in  Accents  Sweet  and  Strong." 
Samuel  Longfellow, 

SAMUEL  LONGFELLOW  was  a  brother  of  the 
famous  poet,  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 
He  was  a  younger  brother,  having  been  born  on 
June  i8,  1819,  twelve  years  after  his  brother  Henry. 
Both  were  born  in  Portland,  Me.,  and  Samuel  died 
there  on  October  3,  1892. 

Samuel  Longfellow  was  a  Unitarian  clergyman, 
and  after  graduating  from  Harvard  University  he 
became  pastor  of  churches  in  Fall  River,  Mass., 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  and  Germantown,  Penn.  He  was 
not  only  a  writer  of  hymns  but  a  compiler  of  hymn- 
books.  At  one  time,  with  Samuel  Johnson,  of 
Boston,  he  was  preparing  a  hymn-book  and  was  at 
a  loss  for  a  good  title.  "  Why,"  said  a  friend,  re- 
ferring to  the  Christian  names  of  both  the  editors, 
"  you  might  call  it  '  The  Sam  Book  I  *  " 

It  was  Samuel  Longfellow  who  wrote  the  biog- 
raphy of  his  great  brother.  We  also  owe  to  him  the 
establishing  of  what  is  known  as  **the  vesper  service  " 
in  the  form  in  which  so  many  churches  now  use  it, 
— a  most  helpful  institution. 

Mr.  Longfellow  wrote  many  beautiful  hymns, 
which  have  been  used  by  the  churches  of  all 
denominations.  Among  the  finest  of  these  is  the 
hymn  given  below.     It  was  first  published  in  1864. 

345 


346  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Though  not  written  as  a  missionary  hymn,  it  is  often 
used  for  that  purpose. 

Oh,  still  in  accents  sweet  and  strong 
Sounds  forth  the  ancient  word, 
"  More  reapers  for  white  harvest  fields. 
More  laborers  for  the  Lord." 

We  hear  the  call ;  in  dreams  no  more 

In  selfish  ease  we  lie. 
But,  girded  for  our  Father's  work, 

Go  forth  beneath  His  sky. 

Where  prophets*  word,  and  martyrs*  blood, 
And  prayers  of  saints  were  sown. 

We,  to  their  labors  entering  in, 

Would  reap  where  they  have  strown. 

O  Thou  whose  call  our  hearts  has  stirred, 

To  do  Thy  will  we  come ; 
Thrust  in  our  sickles  at  Thy  word. 

And  bear  our  harvest  home. 


"The  Spacious  Firmament  on  High." 

Joseph  Addison. 

JOSEPH  ADDISON  was  the  greatest  English 
writer  of  his  time,  and  one  of  the  greatest  of  all 
time.  He  was  born  May  i,  1672,  at  Milston,  in  the 
County  of  Wiltshire,  England.  His  father  was  the 
Dean  of  Litchfield,  and  his  mother  was  the  sister  of 
the  Bishop  of  Bristol,  so  that  it  is  no  wonder  that  the 
boy  was  intended  by  his  parents  for  the  gospel  min- 
istry. However,  he  preferred  the  study  of  law  and 
politics,  and  became  an  influential  public  man. 

After  completing  his  studies  at  Oxford,  he  filled  in 
succession  a  number  of  important  government  offices, 
becoming  under-secretary  of  state,  and  finally  chief 
secretary  for  Ireland.  King  William  III.  gave  him 
a  pension.  He  married  Charlotte,  the  Dowager 
Countess  of  Warwick.  That  was  in  1716,  and  three 
years  later  he  came  to  an  untimely  end  from  asthma 
and  dropsy,  passing  away  on  June  17,  17 19.  His 
body  lay  in  state  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  of  West- 
minster Abbey,  where  the  revision  of  the  Bible  was 
made  in  the  last  years  of  the  last  century. 

Addison  was  a  man  of  unblemished  character, 
loved  and  admired  by  all.  The  poet  Young  says 
that  when  he  was  dying  he  sent  for  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick and  said  to  him,  "  See  in  what  peace  a  Chris- 
tian can  die ! " 

Addison  wrote  a  very  noble  tragedy,  **  Cato,"  but 

347 


348  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

his  greatest  work  was  in  prose.  With  his  friend, 
Sir  Richard  Steele,  he  estabhshed  The  Spectator^  a 
weekly  paper  consisting  of  an  essay  by  himself  or 
Steele  or  one  of  their  friends — the  beginning  of  the 
modern  magazine  and  editorial.  After  this  paper 
had  run  its  course  he  established  in  succession  The 
TatleVy  The  GuardiaUy  and  The  Freeholder^  writing 
for  all  of  them  a  series  of  wonderful  essays  in  the 
purest  English,  full  of  a  wit  and  wisdom  that  have 
never  been  surpassed. 

Five  hymns,  which  are  all  that  Addison  is  known 
to  have  written,  were  composed  for  The  Spectator^ 
and  formed  part  of  his  essays  there.  One  of  these 
begins,  "When  all  Thy  mercies,  O  my  God,  my 
rising  soul  surveys."  It  was  written  after  Addison's 
escape  from  shipwreck.  Another,  "  How  are  Thy 
servants  blessed,  O  Lord,"  is  often  called  the 
travelers'  hymn.  It  was  probably  written  after  his 
return  from  the  same  voyage.  The  others  are, 
"  When  rising  from  the  bed  of  death,"  **  The  Lord 
my  pasture  shall  prepare,"  and  the  one  given  below, 
which  is  considered  the  finest  of  Addison's  five 
hymns,  and  one  of  the  finest  in  the  English  language. 

It  is  Addison's  version  of  Ps.  19,  and  it  was  pub- 
lished in  The  Spectator,  No.  465,  August  23,  1712. 
The  hymn  is  often  called  "  Creation,"  because  it  is 
sung  to  a  selection  from  Haydn's  great  oratorio  of 
that  name.     Here  it  is  : — 

The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 
With  all  the  blue  etherial  sky, 
And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 
Their  great  Original  proclaim. 


The  Spacious  Firmament  on  High  349 

The  unwearied  sun  from  day  to  day 
Does  his  Creator's  power  display, 
And  publishes  to  every  land 
The  work  of  an  almighty  hand. 

Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale, 
And  nightly  to  the  listening  earth 
Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth  ; 
Whilst  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn. 
And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll, 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 

What  though  in  solemn  silence  all 
Move  round  this  dark. terrestrial  ball ; 
What  though  no  real  voice  nor  sound 
Amidst  their  radiant  orbs  be  found, — 
In  reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice, 
And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice. 
Forever  singing  as  they  shine, 
**  The  hand  that  made  us  is  divine.** 


*'  When,  Marshaled  on  the  Nightly  Plain.*' 
Henry  Kirke  White. 

THIS  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  Christmas 
poems.  It  was  written  by  a  remarkable  young 
man,  a  poet  who,  like  Keats  and  Chatterton,  died  at 
a  very  early  age,  before  he  had  done  more  than  give 
some  hint  of  the  power  of  genius  that  he  possessed. 

Henry  Kirke  White  was  born  in  Nottingham, 
England,  March  21,  1785.  His  father  was  a  butcher. 
His  mother  was  a  woman  of  ability,  who,  in  order 
to  get  money  to  give  her  son  the  best  possible  edu- 
cation, opened  a  school  for  girls. 

But  the  family  were  not  able  to  send  the  boy  to 
college,  so  he  became,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  a 
worker  at  a  stocking-loom.  He  disliked  this  very 
much,  and  found  an  opportunity  to  study  law. 

He  had  not  long  engaged  in  this  pursuit  before 
he  was  converted.  He  had  been  surrounded  by  in- 
fidels, but  one  of  them,  a  close  friend  of  his,  became 
converted,  and  began  to  avoid  young  White,  know- 
ing that  he  would  be  ridiculed  and  scorned.  White 
inquired  why  his  friend  shunned  him,  and  learned 
the  reason.  This  set  him  to  serious  thinking,  and 
at  last  he  became  a  very  earnest  Christian. 

So  earnest  was  he  that  he  determined  to  enter  the 
gospel  ministry.  By  this  time  his  conspicuous  abili- 
ties had  won  for  him  some  influential  friends,  among 
whom  was  Henry  Martyn,  who  became  so  famous 
as  a  missionary  to  India   and  Persia.     These  ob- 

350 


When,  Marshaled  on  the  Nightly  Plain      351 

tained  for  him  the  means  to  attend  St.  John's  Col- 
lege, Cambridge  University,  where  he  paid  part  of 
his  expenses  by  manual  labor.  He  was  there,  how- 
ever, only  a  year,  standing  in  the  first  rank  among 
his  classmates.  But  overstudy  brought  on  consump- 
tion, and  he  died  of  that  dread  disease  on  Sunday, 
October  19,  1806,  when  he  was  only  twenty-one 
years  old. 

Henry  White  was  a  mere  boy  when  he  disclosed 
his  talents.  At  the  age  of  thirteen  he  wrote  the 
poem,  **  To  an  Early  Primrose."  At  the  age  of  fif- 
teen he  lectured  for  two  and  three-quarters  hours,  it 
is  said,  without  any  direct  preparation,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  "  Genius."  At  that  same  age  he  won  a  silver 
medal  for  a  translation  from  the  Latin  of  Horace, 
and  also  two  globes  for  a  description  of  an  imaginary 
journey  from  London  to  Edinburgh.  His  first  vol- 
ume of  poems  was  published  when  he  was  seventeen 
years  old. 

So  well  known  had  he  become  that  his  untimely 
death  caused  great  sorrow.  Robert  Southey  wrote 
about  him  in  prose  and  Byron  in  poetry.  A  tablet 
to  his  memory  was  even  set  up  in  the  United  States, 
in  Cambridge,  Massachusetts.  It  was  everywhere 
felt  that  the  world  had  lost  a  life  of  rare  promise. 

White  wrote  ten  hymns.  One  of  the  most  popu- 
lar and  beautiful,  **  Oft  in  sorrow,  oft  in  woe,"  may 
have  been  his  last  hymn.  It  was  written  on  the 
back  of  a  mathematical  exercise.  Another  very  fine 
poem  is  **  The  Lord,  our  God,  is  full  of  might."  But 
the  hymn  that  is  best  liked  and  most  used  is  prob- 
ably the  lovely  Christmas  hymn  here  printed. 


352  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

The  hymn,  written  in  1804,  was  first  published  in 
1812,  under  the  title,  "  The  Star  of  Bethlehem."  It 
is  said  to  have  been  written  to  picture  the  poet's 
own  experience  in  his  conversion.  "  Once  on  the 
raging  seas  I  rode "  in  a  "  foundering  bark "  is 
White's  view  of  his  condition  when  he  was  an  unbe- 
liever. This  understanding  of  the  hymn  will  make 
it  all  the  more  precious  to  us. 

When,  marshaled  on  the  nightly  plain, 

The  glittering  host  bestud  the  sky. 
One  star  alone,  of  all  the  train, 

Can  fix  the  sinner's  wandering  eye. 
Hark  !  hark !  to  God  the  chorus  breaks 

From  every  host,  from  every  gem  ; 
But  one  alone  the  Saviour  speaks — 

It  is  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

Once  on  the  raging  seas  I  rode  ; 

The  storm  was  loud,  the  night  was  dark; 
The  ocean  yawned,  and  rudely  blowed 

The  wind,  that  tossed  my  foundering  bark ; 
Deep  horror  then  my  vitals  froze ; 

Death-struck,  I  ceased  the  tide  to  stem ; 
When  suddenly  a  star  arose, — 

It  was  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  ! 

It  was  my  guide,  my  light,  my  all ; 

It  bade  my  dark  forebodings  cease. 
And  through  the  storm  and  danger's  thrall 

It  led  me  to  the  port  of  peace. 
Now  safely  moored,  my  perils  o'er, 

I'll  sing,  first  in  night's  diadem, 
For  ever  and  for  evermore, 

The  Star,  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  ! 


"  Father,  Whatever  of  Earthly  Bliss." 

Aline  Steele, 

ANNE  STEELE  was  the  first  woman  writer 
whose  hymns  came  to  be  largely  used  in 
hymn-books,  and  she  is  the  greatest  hymn-writer 
of  her  denomination,  the  Baptist.  She  was  born  at 
Broughton,  Hampshire,  England,  in  1716.  Her 
father  was  William  Steele,  a  timber  merchant,  who 
preached  for  sixty  years,  mostly  without  a  salary,  in 
the  Baptist  church  at  Broughton,  and  all  her  life 
Anne  was  his  faithful  assistant  in  his  religious 
work. 

Her  mother  died  when  she  was  only  three  years 
old.  She  joined  the  church  at  the  age  of  fourteen. 
She  was  a  very  delicate  child,  threatened  with  con- 
sumption, and  in  1835  she  suffered  a  severe  injury 
to  her  hip.  For  the  greater  part  of  her  life,  there- 
fore, she  was  an  invalid,  confined  for  much  of  the 
time  to  her  room,  and  even  helpless  upon  her  bed. 
And  yet  she  kept  her  cheerful  and  helpful  dis- 
position. 

The  sorest  trial  of  Anne  Steele's  life  came  when 
she  was  twenty-one.  Robert  Elscourt,  a  noble 
young  man  to  whom  she  was  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried, was  drowned  the  day  before  their  wedding  was 
to  take  place.     She   never   married,  being   in   this 

353 


354  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

respect,  as  in  many  others,  quite  like  another  great 
hymn-writer,  Dr.  Isaac  Watts,  who  lived  at  a  dis- 
tance of  only  fifteen  miles  from  her.  This  sad  loss 
was  undoubtedly  in  her  mind  as  she  wrote  the  hymn 
we  have  selected. 

Miss  Steele's  poems  did  not  appear  in  print  until 
1760,  and  then  only  under  the  pen-name  of  **Theo- 
dosia."  She  directed  that  the  profits  from  the  book 
should  be  spent  in  charity.  Her  father  wrote  in  his 
diary  :  **  This  day  Nanny  sent  part  of  her  composi- 
tion to  London  to  be  printed.  I  entreat  a  gracious 
God,  who  enabled  and  stirred  her  up  to  such  a  work, 
to  direct  in  it  and  bless  it  for  the  good  of  many.  I 
pray  God  to  make  it  useful,  and  keep  her  hum- 
ble." All  parts  of  that  prayer  were  certainly  an- 
swered. 

It  is  difficult  for  us  to  realize  the  tremendous 
popularity  that  attended  these  hymns.  The  wide 
use  of  some  of  **  Fanny  Crosby's "  hymns  of  the 
present  day  is  something  like  it.  For  example,  in 
1808  the  Episcopal  church  in  Boston  that  Phillips 
Brooks  made  famous,  Trinity  Church,  printed  its 
own  hymn-book.  It  consisted  of  152  hymns,  and 
59  of  these  were  Miss  Steele's.  In  all,  Miss  Steele 
wrote  144  hymns,  and  34  Psalms  in  verse.  Many 
of  these  are  still  sung,  including  "  Dear  Refuge  of 
my  weary  soul,"  **  My  God,  my  Father,  blissful 
name,"  **  He  lives,  the  great  Redeemer  lives," 
"  Alas !  what  hourly  dangers  rise,"  and  **  Father  of 
Mercies,  in  Thy  Word."  Her  hymns  are  very 
simple,  clear,  and  beautiful,  breathing  a  spirit  of 
Christian  faith  and  resignation. 


Father,  Whate'er  of  Earthly  Bliss  355 

Of  all  her  hymns,  doubtless  the  following  is  the 
favorite : — 

Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bliss 

Thy  sovereign  will  denies, 
Accepted  at  Thy  throne,  let  this 

My  humble  prayer,  arise  : 

Give  me  a  calm  and  thankful  heart, 

From  every  murmur  free ; 
The  blessings  of  Thy  grace  impart, 

And  make  me  live  to  Thee. 

Let  the  sweet  hope  that  Thou  are  mine 

My  life  and  death  attend. 
Thy  presence  through  my  journey  shine, 

And  crown  my  journey's  end. 

This  hymn  is  taken  from  a  poem  of  ten  stanzas 
entitled  **  Desiring  Resignation  and  Thankfulness." 
The  hymn  is  the  last  three  stanzas,  and  the  choice 
was  made  by  Toplady,  the  author  of  **  Rock  of 
Ages."  The  first  line  of  the  original  poem  is 
**  When  I  survey  life's  varied  scenes."  "  Naomi," 
the  lovely  tune  always  used  with  this  hymn,  was 
written  expressly  for  it  by  Lowell  Mason,  in  1836. 

It  may  be  asked  how  the  last  line  of  the  hymn, 
referring  to  **  the  journey's  end,"  was  carried  out  in 
life.  Very  beautifully  indeed,  for  this  is  the  account 
of  her  death  :  **  She  took  the  most  affectionate  leave 
of  her  weeping  friends  around  her  ;  and  at  length, 
the  happy  moment  of  her  dismission  arriving,  she 
closed  her  eyes,  and  with  these  animating  words  on 


356  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

her  dying  lips,  *I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,' 
gently  fell  asleep  in  Jesus." 

That  was  in  November,  1778.  Her  body  was  laid 
away  in  Broughton  church-yard,  and  on  her  tomb' 
stone  are  these  words  : — 

Silent  the  lyre,  and  dumb  the  tuneful  tongue, 
That  sung  on  earth  her  great  Redeemer's  praise ; 

But  now  in  heaven  she  joins  the  angelic  song, 
In  more  harmonious,  more  exalted  lays. 


**  More  Love  to  Thee,  O  Christ." 
Elizabeth  Pay  son  Prentiss, 

ELIZABETH  PAYSON  was  the  youngest  daugh- 
ter of  Dr.  Edward  Payson,  a  famous  and  very 
devout  clergyman  of  Pordand,  Me.  When  she  was 
very  young  she  began  to  write  both  prose  and  verse, 
and  contributed  to  The  Youth^s  Companio7i  when  she 
was  only  sixteen.  She  became  a  pious  and  beauti- 
ful young  woman,  with  a  finely  trained  mind.  As  a 
teacher  in  Portland,  in  Ipswich,  Mass.,  and  in  Rich- 
mond, Va.,  she  was  greatly  beloved. 

In  1845  she  married  Rev.  George  L.  Prentiss,  D.  D., 
who  became  a  professor  in  Union  Theological  Semi- 
nary, New  York  City.  In  1869  appeared  her  most 
famous  story,  "  Stepping  Heavenward,"  more  than 
200,000  copies  of  which  have  been  sold  in  the 
United  States,  while  many  translations  have  been 
printed  in  other  parts  of  the  world.  **  The  Flower 
of  the  Family  "  is  another  of  Mrs.  Prentiss's  stories 
that  has  been  widely  read. 

As  a  poet,  Mrs.  Prentiss  is  best  known  by  the 
beautiful  hymn  which  we  give  here.  It  was  written 
probably  in  1856,  in  a  time  of  great  sorrow  for  her. 
It  was  little  regarded  at  the  time,  and  it  w^as  thirteen 
years  before  Mrs.  Prentiss  thought  to  show  it  to  her 
husband.     Then,  in  1869,  the  hymn  was  printed  on 

357 


358  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

a  slip  of  paper  for  private  distribution.  The  next 
year  came  the  great  revival,  and  the  hymn  sprang 
into  wide  popularity. 

"More  love  to  Thee,  O  Christ,"  has  been  trans- 
lated into  many  languages  and  sung  all  over  the 
earth.  When  the  Chinese  heard  of  Mrs.  Prentiss's 
death,  in  1878,  they  wrote  the  hymn  in  Chinese 
characters  upon  a  fan,  which  they  sent  to  Dr.  Pren- 
tiss. 


More  love  to  Thee,  O  Christ, 

More  love  to  Thee  ! 
Hear  Thou  the  prayer  I  make 

On  bended  knee ; 
This  is  my  earnest  plea, 
More  love,  O  Christ,  to  Thee, 

More  love  to  Thee  ! 


Once  earthly  joy  I  craved, 
Sought  peace  and  rest ; 

Now  Thee  alone  I  seek. 
Give  what  is  best ; 

This  all  my  prayer  shall  be, 

More  love,  O  Christ,  to  Thee, 
More  love  to  Thee  ! 


Let  sorrow  do  its  work. 
Send  grief  and  pain  ; 

Sweet  are  Thy  messengers. 
Sweet  their  refrain, 

When  they  can  sing  with  me. 

More  love,  O  Christ,  to  Thee, 
More  love  to  Thee  I 


More  Love  to  Thee,  O  Christ  359 

Then  shall  my  latest  breath 

Whisper  Thy  praise ; 
This  be  the  parting  cry 

My  heart  shall  raise, 
This  still  its  prayer  shall  be, 
More  love,  O  Christ,  to  Thee, 

More  love  to  Thee  ! 


"As  Shadows  Cast  by  Cloud  and  Sun.'' 

William  Cullen  Bryant, 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT,  the  author  of 
this  hymn,  was  the  first  of  the  great  Ameri- 
can poets.  He  was  the  son  of  a  physician,  and  was 
born  at  Cummington,  Mass.,  November  3,  1794.  He 
was  educated  in  Williams  College,  and  as  a  lawyer. 
He  became  an  editor  in  New  York  City,  where  he 
founded  The  New  York  Review^  and  edited  The  New 
York  Evening  Post. 

Bryant  was  only  a  young  man  when  he  wrote 
"  Thanatopsis,"  which  at  once  made  him  famous. 
He  lived  a  long  and  honored  life,  dying  in  his 
eighty-fourth  year,  June  12,  1878.  He  passed  away 
at  his  country  home  on  Long  Island,  being  killed  by 
a  fall  which  came  as  he  was  weary  after  delivering 
an  oration  in  the  open  air  at  Central  Park. 

Bryant  wrote  more  than  twenty  hymns,  but  only 
two  or  three  of  them  are  in  common  use.  The  best 
known  is  the  noble  home-missionary  hymn,  "  Look 
from  Thy  sphere  of  endless  day."  The  Christmas 
hymn  here  printed  was  written  for  the  semi-centennial 
of  the  Church  of  the  Messiah  in  Boston,  March  19, 
1875.  It  was  sung  at  the  poet's  funeral.  Note  how 
suitable  the  hymn  is  to  that  occasion,  as  well  as  to 
the  occasion  for  which  it  was  written,  and  also  to 
our  Christmas  and  New  Year  seasons.  Here  are 
the  verses : — 

360 


As  Shadows  Cast  by  Cloud  and  Sun         361 

As  shadows  cast  by  cloud  and  sun 

Flit  o'er  the  summer  grass, 
So,  in  Thy  sight,  Almighty  One, 

Earth's  generations  pass. 
And  as  the  years,  an  endless  host. 

Come  swiftly  pressing  on. 
The  brightest  names  that  earth  can  boast 

Just  glisten  and  are  gone. 

Yet  doth  the  star  of  Bethlehem  shed 

A  lustre  pure  and  sweet; 
And  still  it  leads,  as  once  it  led, 

To  the  Messiah's  feet. 
O  Father,  may  that  holy  star 

Grow  every  year  more  bright, 
And  send  its  glorious  beams  afar 

To  fill  the  world  with  light. 


"The  King  of  Love  My  Shepherd  Is/' 

Henry  Williams  Baker. 

ONE  of  the  most  beautiful  hymns  ever  written  is 
the  one  beginning,  **  The  King  of  love  my 
Shepherd  is."  Tnis  hymn  was  written  by  Sir  Henry 
Williams  Baker,  Bart.,  who  was  the  eldest  son  of 
Sir  Henry  Loraine  Baker,  an  admiral  in  the  British 
navy.     The  poet  was  born  in  London,  May  27,  182 1. 

After  his  graduation  from  the  Universiy  of  Cam- 
bridge he  became  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of 
England,  becoming  vicar  of  Monkland  in  Hereford- 
shire, and  occupied  that  position  until  his  death  on 
February  12,  1877. 

He  edited  hymnals  and  devotional  books,  but  is 
best  known  for  the  few  very  fine  hymns  that  he  him- 
self composed.  One  of  his  first  hymns  is,  "Oh, 
what  if  we  are  Christ's?"  He  wrote  thirty-three 
hymns,  all  of  them  simple  and  earnest  and  smoothly 
flowing.  Most  of  them  are  tender  and  plaintive,  or 
even  sad.  His  last  words  were  from  his  own  hymn, 
the  one  given  below,  the  stanza  beginning,  "  Per- 
verse and  foolish,  oft  I  strayed."  This  hymn  is,  of 
course,  based  upon  the  Twenty-third  Psalm,  and  it 
is  as  follows :  — 

The  King  of  love  my  Shepherd  is, 
Whose  goodness  faileth  never : 

I  nothing  lack  if  I  am  His 
And  He  is  mine  forever. 
362 


The  King  of  Love  My  Shepherd  Is  363 

Where  streams  of  living  water  flow 

My  ransomed  soul  He  leadeth, 
And,  where  the  verdant  pastures  grow, 

With  food  celestial  feedeth. 

Perverse  and  foolish,  oft  I  strayed, 

But  yet  in  love  He  sought  me. 
And  on  His  shoulder  gently  laid, 

And  home,  rejoicing,  brought  me. 

In  death's  dark  vale  I  fear  no  ill 
With  Thee,  dear  Lord,  beside  me; 

Thy  rod  and  staff  my  comfort  still, 
Thy  cross  before  to  guide  me. 

Thou  spread' St  a  table  in  my  sight; 

Thy  unction  grace  bestoweth ; 
And  oh,  what  transport  of  delight 

From  Thy  pure  chalice  floweth  I 

And  so  through  all  the  length  of  days, 

Thy  goodness  faileth  never  : 
Good  Shepherd,  may  I  sing  Thy  praise 

Within  Thy  house  forever. 


'*  Prayer  Is  the  SouFs  Sincere  Desire." 

James  Montgomery, 

MOST  of  the  great  hymn-writers  have  been 
ministers,  but  the  author  of  this  fine  hymn 
was  a  layman, — James  Montgomery.  He  and  Will- 
iam Cowper  stand  at  the  head  of  the  laymen  who 
have  written  hymns  (Isiywomen  not  being  taken  into 
account !)  and  the  hymns  of  no  other  layman  are 
found  in  so  great  numbers  in  our  hymn-books. 

Montgomery  was  born  at  Irvine,  in  Ayrshire, 
Scotland  (the  region  in  which  Robert  Burns  was 
born),  November  4,  1771.  His  parents  were  Mora- 
vian missionaries,  and  both  of  them  went  to  the 
West  Indies  in  1783,  where  they  died  soon  after- 
ward. The  lad  became  apprentice  to  a  grocer, 
from  whom  he  ran  away.  He  tried  to  get  his 
poems  printed  in  London,  for  he  had  already  begun 
to  write,  but  in  this  he  failed.  At  last  he  became 
assistant  to  the  publisher  of  a  newspaper  in  Sheffield. 
This  paper  was  opposed  to  the  government,  and  its 
publisher  finally  went  away  to  America  to  avoid 
prosecution  for  his  utterances. 

Upon  this,  Montgomery  took  entire  charge  of  the 
paper,  renamed  it  Tke  Sheffield  Iris,  and  conducted 
it  for  thirty-one  years.  During  the  first  two  years 
of  his  Hfe  as  an  editor  Montgomery  was  put  in 
prison  twice  by  the  government,  once  for  reprinting 

364 


Prayer  Is  the  Soul's  Sincere  Desire  365 

a  poem  favorable  to  the  French  Revolution,  and 
once  for  giving  an  account  of  a  riot  in  Sheffield. 
He  gave  up  his  newspaper  work  in  1825,  and  in 
1833  the  government  made  amends  for  his  im- 
prisonment by  bestowing  upon  him  a  pension  of  a 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  He  had  become  a  famous 
writer,  and  was  greatly  loved.  When  he  died,  in 
his  sleep,  April  30,  1854,  Sheffield  gave  him  a  pub- 
lic funeral,  and  erected  in  his  honor  a  bronze  statue. 

Montgomery  wrote  a  number  of  long  poems,  but 
they  are  not  read  now.  Near  the  end  of  the  poet's 
life  a  friend  asked  him,  **  Which  of  your  poems  will 
live?'*  He  answered,  **  None,  sir;  nothing,  except 
perhaps  a  few  of  my  hymns."  That  judgment  was 
correct,  except  that  more  than  "  a  few  "  of  the  hymns 
have  survived.  He  wrote  about  four  hundred  hymns, 
and  of  these  about  one  hundred  are  still  in  common 
use. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  of  his  hymns  is 
the  favorite.  Some  would  vote  for  **  Jerusalem,  my 
happy  home."  Others  would  prefer  the  magnificent 
hymn,  "  Hail  to  the  Lord's  anointed."  Montgomery 
was  a  missionary  enthusiast,  as  the  son  of  such  par- 
ents surely  should  have  been.  He  gave  many  mis- 
sionary addresses,  and  wrote  other  great  missionary 
hymns,  among  them  **  Hark  !  the  song  of  jubilee." 

Another  favorite  is  his  **Sow  in  the  morn  thy 
seed,"  which  was  written  for  the  Sunday-school 
children  of  Sheffield,  and  sung  every  year  for 
twenty-five  years  by  a  gathering  of  twenty  thou- 
sand of  them.  Still  other  splendid  hymns  of  his  are 
"The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd,  no  want  shall  I  know," 


366  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

"Call  Jehovah  thy  salvation,"  ''Forever  with  the 
Lord,"  *'Oh,  where  shall  rest  be  found?"  "Holy, 
holy,  holy  Lord,"  "  To  Thy  temple  I  repair," 
"Songs  of  praise  the  angels  sang,"  "Angels,  from 
the  realms  of  glory,"  "  Go  to  dark  Gethsemane," 
"  In  the  hour  of  trial,"  "  What  are  these  in  bright 
array  ?  "  and  many  others  almost  equally  famous. 

There  are  a  large  number  of  Christians,  however, 
whose  choice  among  all  Montgomery's  hymns  would 
be  the  noble  poem  on  prayer  given  below,  the  most 
perfect  definition  of  prayer  in  all  poetry.  Mont- 
gomery said  that  he  had  received  more  praise  for 
this  hymn  than  for  anything  else  he  had  ever  writ- 
ten. The  poet's  last  words  were  words  of  prayer. 
He  had  been  conducting  family  prayers,  and  had 
offered  a  prayer  in  which  he  had  poured  out  his 
whole  soul.  Immediately  afterward  he  went  to 
bed,  and  passed  away  that  night  in  his  sleep.  Thus 
he  "entered  heaven  with  prayer.'' 

Prayer  is  the  soul's  sincere  desire. 

Uttered  or  unexpressed  ; 
The  motion  of  a  hidden  fire 

That  trembles  in  the  breast. 

Prayer  is  the  burden  of  a  sigh. 

The  falling  of  a  tear, 
The  upward  glancing  of  an  eye, 

When  none  but  God  is  near. 

Prayer  is  the  simplest  form  of  speech 

That  infant  lips  can  try ; 
Prayer  the  sublimest  strains  that  reach 

The  Majesty  on  high. 


Prayer  Is  the  Soul's  Sincere  Desire  367 

Prayer  is  the  Christian's  vital  breath, 

The  Christian's  native  air, 
His  watchword  at  the  gates  of  death  — 

He  enters  heaven  with  prayer. 

Prayer  is  the  contrite  sinner's  voice, 

Returning  from  his  ways ; 
While  angels  in  their  songs  rejoice. 

And  cry,  ''  Behold,  he  prays  !  " 

O  Thou,  by  whom  we  come  to  God, 

The  Life,  the  Truth,  the  Way, 
The  path  of  prayer  Thyself  hast  trod ; 

Lord,  teach  us  how  to  pray. 


"Thy  Way,  Not  Mine,  O  Lord." 
Horatius  Bonar. 

HORATIUS  BONAR,  who  wrote  this  hymn, 
was  one  of  the  noblest  of  the  many  noble  souls 
that  Scotland  has  produced.  He  was  born  in  Edin- 
burgh, December  19,  1808,  and  became  the  minister 
at  Kelso.  When  the  Scotdsh  Presbyterian  Church 
was  split  in  1843,  he  went  with  the  other  leaders  of 
the  Church  into  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland,  and 
remained  in  that  denomination,  preaching  chiefly  in 
Edinburgh,  till  his  death  in  1889.  His  brother  was 
the  Bible  commentator,  Dr.  Andrew  A.  Bonar.  His 
greatest  teacher  was  the  famous  Christian  leader, 
Dr.  Thomas  Chalmers. 

Dr.  Bonar  wrote  many  poems,  and  nearly  one 
hundred  of  his  lovely  hymns  have  come  into  com- 
mon use.  Most  of  these  songs  were  written  for  his 
Sunday  school,  and  were  sung  there.  His  denomi- 
nation used  only  the  Psalms,  and  it  was  not  until  near 
the  close  of  his  life  that  Dr.  Bonar  introduced  his 
hymns  into  the  services  of  his  own  church.  When 
he  did,  two  of  his  elders  rose  and  walked  indignantly 
out  of  the  building. 

The  author  himself  thought  that  his  best  hymn  was 
"  When  the  weary  seeking  rest."  Perhaps  the  favor- 
ite of  most  persons  is  **  I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus 
say."  Among  other  beautiful  hymns  by  Dr.  Bonar 
are   "■  Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  weeping,"  ''  Go, 

368 


Thy  Way,  Not  Mine,  O  Lord  369 

labor  on  ;  spend  and  be  spent,"  **  Yes,  for  me,  for  me 
He  careth,"  "A  few  more  years  shall  roll,"  *'  I  was  a 
wandering  sheep,"  **  I  see  the  crowd  in  Pilate's  hall," 
and  *'  I  lay  my  sins  on  Jesus."  He  was  a  man  of  a 
tender,  loving,  peaceful  spirit,  and  his  hymns  per- 
fectly represent  his  character. 

Many  of  Dr.  Bonar's  hymns  were  published  for  the 
first  time  in  the  three  series  of  "  Hymns  of  Faith  and 
Hope."  The  hymn  here  given,  though  it  appeared, 
according  to  Duffield,  in  1856,  was  printed  in  the 
first  series  of  the  '*  Hymns  of  Faith  and  Hope," 
which  was  published  in  1857.  It  had  seven  stanzas 
there,  and  these  are  given  below.  As  it  is  sung  in 
stanzas  of  eight  lines  each,  however,  the  second  of 
these  stanzas  is  omitted  from  our  hymn-books. 

Thy  way,  not  mine,  O  Lord, 

However  dark  it  be  ! 
Lead  rae  by  Thine  own  hand  ; 

Choose  out  the  path  for  me. 

Smooth  let  it  be  or  rough, 

It  will  be  still  the  best ; 
Winding  or  straight,  it  matters  not, 

It  leads  me  to  Thy  rest. 

I  dare  not  choose  my  lot  : 

I  would  not,  if  I  might  ; 
Choose  Thou  for  me,  my  God ; 

So  shall  I  walk  aright. 

The  kingdom  that  I  seek 

Is  Thine  :  so  let  the  way 
That  leads  to  it  be  Thine, 

Else  I  must  surely  stray. 


370  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Take  Thou  my  cup,  and  it 
With  joy  or  sorrow  fill, 

As  best  to  Thee  may  seem ; 
Choose  Thou  my  good  and  ill. 

Choose  Thou  for  me  my  friends, 
My  sickness  or  my  health  ; 

Choose  Thou  my  cares  for  me, 
My  poverty  or  wealth. 

Not  mine,  not  mine  the  choice. 
In  things  or  great  or  small ; 

Be  Thou  my  guide,  my  strength, 
My  wisdom,  and  my  all. 


"Hark!  Ten  Thousand  Harps  and  Voices/* 

Thomas  Kelly. 

THOMAS  KELLY,  who  wrote  this  hymn,  was 
born  July  13,  1769,  in  Kellyville,  near  Athy, 
Ireland.  His  father  was  a  judge  of  the  Irish  Court 
of  Common  Pleas,  and  educated  his  son  at  Trinity 
College,  Dublin,  intending  him  for  the  law.  He  was 
a  friend  of  Edmund  Burke,  and  would  probably  have 
made  a  success  of  the  law,  but  he  was  led  to  study 
Hebrew,  and  from  that  study  he  came  to  prefer  the 
work  of  a  minister.  He  grew  to  be  very  earnest  in 
religion,  and  endangered  his  health  by  the  severity 
of  his  devoutness. 

He  was  at  first  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, but  his  preaching  was  too  vigorous  for  the 
times,  and  his  archbishop  forbade  him  to  preach  in 
any  of  the  churches  of  the  diocese ;  therefore  he 
became  an  independent,  and  founded  a  number  of 
churches  of  his  own.  At  the  age  of  thirty  he  mar- 
ried a  lady  of  most  congenial  disposition  and  con- 
siderable wealth.  He  labored  zealously  till  his 
eighty-fifth  year,  when  on  May  14,  1854,  he  died 
from  a  stroke  of  paralysis.  As  he  lay  dying  some 
one  repeated,  **  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd."  At 
once  he  replied,  "The  Lord  is  vay  every  thing  T  His 
last  words  were,  "  Not  my  will,  but  Thine,  be  done." 

Mr.  Kelly  published  several  volumes  of  hymns, 
and  wrote  765  in  all.     Of  those  that  have  come  into 

371 


372  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

common  use  the  best  known  are  :  "  On  the  mountain- 
top  appearing,"  **InThy  name,  O  Lord,  assembling," 
**  Look,  ye  saints  ;  the  sight  is  glorious,"  **The  head 
that  once  was  crowned  with  thorns,"  '*  The  people  of 
the  Lord  are  on  their  way  to  heaven,"  **  Saviour, 
through  the  desert  lead  us,"  "What  is  life?  'tis  but 
a  vapor,"  "  Sons  of  Zion,  raise  your  songs." 

Probably  Mr.  Kelly's  most  famous  hymn  is  the  one 
given  below.  It  was  published  in  1806,  and  is  there- 
fore more  than  a  century  old.  It  was  printed  at  first 
with  the  text,  *'  Let  all  the  angels  of  God  worship 
him,"  standing  at  its  head.  Originally  written  in 
seven  stanzas  of  six  lines  each,  it  is  now  always 
printed  in  a  condensed  form,  as  follows  :  — 

Hark  !  ten  thousand  harps  and  voices 
Sound  the  notes  of  praise  above ; 

Jesus  reigns,  and  heaven  rejoices ; 
Jesus  reigns,  the  God  of  love. 

See,  He  sits  on  yonder  throne ; 

Jesus  rules  the  world  alone. 

Jesus,  hail !  whose  glory  brightens 

All  above,  and  gives  it  worth ; 
Lord  of  life.  Thy  smile  enlightens, 

Cheers,  and  charms  Thy  sons  of  earth : 
When  we  think  of  love  like  Thine, 
Lord,  we  own  it  love  divine. 

King  of  glory,  reign  forever; 

Thine  an  everlasting  crown; 
Nothing  from  Thy  love  shall  sever 

Those  whom  Thou  hast  made  Thine  own ; 
Happy  objects  of  Thy  grace, 
Destined  to  behold  Thy  face. 


Hark!    Ten  Thousand  Harps  and  Voices       373 

Saviour,  hasten  Thine  appearing ; 

Bring,  O  bring  the  glorious  day. 
When,  the  awful  summons  hearing, 

Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away : 
Then  with  golden  harps  we'll  sing 
Glory,  glory  to  our  King. 


"  Fight  the  Good  Fight." 

John  Samuel  Bewley  Monsell. 

THIS  stirring  hymn  was  written  by  John  Samuel 
Bewley  Monsell,  LL.  D.,  who  was  born  at  St. 
Columb's,  Londonderry,  Ireland,  March  2,  181 1. 
His  father,  the  archdeacon  of  Londonderry,  edu- 
cated the  boy  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  he 
became  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England.  He 
died  on  April  9,  1875,  at  Guildford,  England,  where 
he  fell  from  the  roof  of  his  church  which  was  being 
rebuilt. 

Dr.  Monsell  published  no  fewer  than  eleven  vol- 
umes of  hymns  ;  in  these,  however,  there  are  many 
repetitions,  so  that  the  total  number  of  hymns  that 
he  wrote  is  about  300.  Of  these  a  very  large  num- 
ber, about  one-fourth,  are  in  common  use,  including 
**  God  is  love,  that  anthem  olden,"  "  Sing  to  the 
Lord  a  joyful  song,"  "  Light  of  the  world,  we  hail 
Thee,"  "  Rest  of  the  weary,  joy  of  the  sad,"  **  Holy 
offerings,  rich  and  rare,"  "  On  our  way  rejoicing," 
*'  Worship  the  Lord  in  the  beauty  of  holiness,"  "O'er 
the  distant  mountains  breaking,"  *'  To  Thee,  O  dear, 
dear  Saviour."  All  of  Dr.  Monsell's  hymns  are 
musical  and  full  of  beauty  and  expression. 

The  hymn  we  have  selected  was  first  printed  in 
1863,  and  was  endded  *'The  Fight  of  Faith."  Its 
four  stanzas  are  as  follows  :  — 

374 


Fight  the  Good  Fight  375 

Fight  the  good  fight  with  all  thy  might ; 
Christ  is  thy  strength  and  Christ  thy  right ; 
Lay  hold  on  life,  and  it  shall  be 
Thy  joy  and  crown  eternally. 

Run  the  straight  race  through  God's  good  grace ; 
Lift  up  thine  eyes,  and  seek  His  face ; 
Life  with  its  way  before  us  lies ; 
Christ  is  the  path  and  Christ  the  prize. 

Cast  care  aside,  upon  thy  Guide 
Lean,  and  His  mercy  will  provide ; 
Lean,  and  the  trusting  soul  shall  prove 
Christ  is  its  life  and  Christ  its  love. 

Faint  not,  nor  fear  ;  His  arms  are  near  ; 
He  changeth  not,  and  thou  art  dear ; 
Only  believe,  and  thou  shalt  see 
That  Christ  is  all  in  all  to  thee. 


"  Lead,  Kindly  Light." 
John  Henry  Newman. 

JOHN  HENRY  NEWMAN  was  the  son  of  John 
Newman,  a  London  banker,  and  was  born  on 
February  21,  1801.  He  was  a  very  superstitious 
boy,  and  used  to  cross  himself  often  when  he  went 
into  dark  places.  He  was  converted  at  the  age  of 
fifteen  and  became  filled  with  a  sense  of  the  nearness 
of  God,  a  feeling  which  remained  with  him  all  his 
life.  At  that  time  he  made  up  his  mind  that  it  was 
God's  will  that  he  should  never  marry. 

Newman  was  graduated  from  Trinity  College, 
Oxford,  in  1820,  and  remained  there  to  study  and 
teach.  In  1824  he  became  a  clergyman  of  the 
Church  of  England,  and  at  once  began  to  preach  in 
a  very  wonderful  and  powerful  way.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  Newman,  who  had  been  strongly  opposed 
to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  began  to  admire  it, 
to  think  of  the  Protestant  Reformation  as  a  mistake, 
and  to  believe  the  Catholic  superstitions  of  the  real 
presence  of  Christ's  body  in  the  bread  and  wine  of 
the  communion  and  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  Mary. 

All  this  time,  however,  Newman  had  no  thought 
of  becoming  a  Catholic,  but  he  was  deeply  grieved 
at  the  progress  made  by  the  liberal  party  in  the 
English   Church.     Suffering    from    poor   health  he 

376 


Lead,  Kindly  Light  377 

journeyed  to  Italy,  met  Catholics  in  Rome,  and  went 
down  alone  to  Sicily,  where  he  was  sick  with  a  fever 
and  his  servant  thought  he  was  dying.  At  last  he 
grew  better  and  set  off  across  the  Mediterranean 
for  Marseilles.  It  was  on  this  voyage,  on  June  16, 
1833,  that  he  wrote  our  hymn,  *'  Lead,  Kindly  Light." 
The  great  hymn,  therefore,  was  not  the  product  of  a 
Catholic,  but  of  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, who  was  greatly  distressed,  who  felt  that  things 
were  going  wrong,  and  who  was  torn  by  the  feeling 
that  he  himself  ought  to  do  something  to  set  them 
right.  It  was  his  prayer  for  leading  in  his  per- 
plexity, and  has  become  the  prayer  for  guidance  of 
many  million  saints. 

But,  alas  !  Newman  followed  the  poor  wax  candle 
of  Catholicism  rather  than  the  Light  of  the  World. 
In  1845,  twelve  years  after  writing  this  hymn,  he 
joined  the  Catholic  Church,  and  served  it  so  faith- 
fully that  in  1879  he  was  made  a  cardinal.  He 
wrote  many  able  books,  including  a  defence  of  his 
Hfe,  called  "  Apologia  pro  Vita  Suo,"  and  he  lived 
to  old  age,  dying  in  1890.  Though  he  erred  greatly 
in  leaving  the  true  principles  of  Protestantism,  he 
was  a  sincere  man  of  pure  and  beautiful  spirit  and 
of  deep  religious  feeling.  His  great  hymn  could 
hardly  come  from  a  different  source. 

The  hymn  was  first  printed  in  The  British  Maga- 
zine in  March,  1834,  with  the  title,  "  Faith-Heav- 
enly Leadings."  In  1836  he  printed  it  with  the  title, 
"  Light  in  the  Darkness,"  and  the  motto,  **  Unto  the 
godly  there  ariseth  up  light  in  the  darkness."  Still 
later  he  gave  it  the  title,  **  The  Pillar  of  the  Cloud." 


378  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Newman  himself  modestly  attributed  the  popularity 
of  the  hymn  to  the  beautiful  tune,  **  Lux  Benigna," 
written  for  it  by  Dr.  Dykes  in  1865 — a  tune  which 
the  composer  framed  while  walking  through  the 
Strand  in  London. 

The  "  angel  faces  "  in  the  last  stanza  of  the  hymn 
are  often  supposed  to  be  the  faces  of  loved  ones 
gone  before.  Newman  himself,  however,  after  his 
conversion  said  that  he  was  conscious  of  the  pres- 
ence of  angels  when  awake  and  often  in  his  sleep, 
but  after  a  while  he  lost  this  sense  of  their  presence 
and  greatly  grieved  over  the  loss.  It  may  be, 
therefore,  that  the  poet  expressed  in  this  stanza  the 
hope  that  these  angel  presences  would  return  to 
him.  Newman  himself  refused  to  throw  light  on 
this  point. 

The  hymn,  as  Newman  himself  printed  it,  is  as 
follows : — 


Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom, 

Lead  Thou  me  on  ; 
The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home ; 

Lead  Thou  me  on  : 
Keep  Thou  my  feet ;  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene, — one  step  enough  for  me. 


I  was  not  ever  thus,  nor  prayed  that  Thou 

Shouldst  lead  me  on  : 
I  loved  to  choose  and  see  my  path  ;  but  now 

Lead  Thou  me  on. 
I  loved  the  garish  day,  and,  spite  of  fears, 
Pride  ruled  my  will :  remember  not  past  years. 


Lead,  Kindly  Light  379 

So  long  Thy  power  hath  blest  me,  sure  it  still 

Will  lead  me  on 
O'er  moor  and  fen,  o'er  crag  and  torrent,  till 

The  night  is  gone ; 
And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile, 
Which  I  have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  awhile. 


"  Pass  It  On." 

Henry  Burto7t. 

SEVENTY-THREE  years  ago  Henry  Burton  was 
born  in  a  rambling  old  farm  house  at  Swanning- 
ton,  in  Leicestershire,  England — a  house  where  his 
ancestors  had  lived  for  two  centuries.  He  was  born 
in  a  family  of  deep  piety,  all  being  ardent  Methodists. 
His  grandfather  was  class  leader.  His  grandmother 
in  1 8 14  founded  the  first  Methodist  juvenile  mission- 
ary society.  Morning  and  evening  prayers  were 
regularly  observed  in  his  father's  house. 

Always  a  follower  of  Christ,  young  Henry  made 
his  first  public  avowal  at  the  age  of  fifteen  in  his 
father's  barn,  where  services  were  being  held  while 
the  chapel  was  being  enlarged.  At  once  he  began 
to  teach  in  the  Sunday  school,  though  only  the 
youngest  children. 

In  1856  the  family — father,  mother,  and  ten  chil- 
dren— emigrated  to  America  and  went  to  a  farm  in 
northern  Illinois.  Henry  went  to  the  academy  of 
Beloit  College  and  finally  graduated  from  the  college 
in  1862,  having  walked  more  than  five  thousand 
miles  to  get  his  education. 

When  Henry  was  a  mere  boy  his  mother  had  paid 
him  a  shilling  to  read  the  six  volumes  of  Jackson's 
**  Lives  of  the  Early  Methodist  Preachers," — **  an  of- 

380 


Pass  It  On  381 


fer,"  he  writes,  "  which  I  gladly  accepted,  though  not 
perhaps  with  the  purest  motive." 

On  his  graduation  he  became  convinced  that  he 
ought  to  preach,  and  three  days  after  graduating  he 
was  on  his  way  to  supply  the  pulpit  of  the  brother  of 
Frances  Willard,  whose  health  had  broken  down  for 
the  time.  Then  he  supplied  at  Monroe,  Wis.,  for  a 
church  whose  pastor  had  gone  to  the  war  as  chaplain, 
and  under  his  ministry  there  came  a  wonderful 
revival,  with  services  every  evening,  except  Satur- 
days, for  six  weeks,  and  with  fifty  new  members 
added  to  the  church,  chiefly  adults.  The  strain  and 
excitement  of  this  work  so  injured  Mr.  Burton's 
health  that  he  went  to  England,  whither  his  family 
had  already  gone.  There  for  many  years  he  has 
labored,  completing  forty-one  years  in  the  pastorate, 
though  three  of  these  years  were  spent  in  a  severe 
sickness,  when  his  life  was  despaired  of  by  eight 
doctors. 

The  degree  of  doctor  of  divinity  has  been  be- 
stowed upon  him  most  fittingly.  He  married  the 
daughter  of  Mark  Guy  Pearse,  the  sister  of  Rev. 
Mark  Guy  Pearse,  the  famous  London  preacher. 
Three  of  their  seven  children  have  become  ministers. 

Dr.  Burton  wrote  the  commentary  on  Luke  in 
"  The  Expositor's  Bible,"  and  has  done  other  impor- 
tant literary  work,  but  he  is  best  known  for  his 
hymns.  Among  them  are  "  O  King  of  Kings," 
which  was  written  at  the  request  of  Sir  John  Stainer, 
the  composer  ;  **  Break,  Day  of  God  "  ;  **  Hymn  for 
the  Sea,"  (which  is  placed  in  all  the  Cunarders  and 
lightships,  and  sung  at  the  Sunday  services  of  all 


382  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

the  vessels  of  the  White  Star  Line) ;  the  missionary 
hymn,  "  There's  a  Light  upon  the  Mountains  "  ;  and 
"  Epworth,"  the  hymn  of  the  Wesley  Guild. 

But  of  all  his  hymns  the  most  famous,  certainly  in 
America,  is  "  Pass  It  On,"  regarding  which  I  have 
been  favored  with  the  following  account  from  Dr. 
Burton  himself : 

'*  The  incident  which  gave  rise  to  the  song  was  an 
experience  of  the  Rev.  Mark  Guy  Pearse,  who  is  my 
brother-in-law  ;  and  I  give  it  now  in  Mr.  Pearse' s  own 
words.  *  Once  when  I  was  a  schoolboy  going  home 
from  the  far-away  little  town  in  which  I  dwelt  (Zeist, 
Holland)  I  arrived  at  Bristol,  and  got  on  board  the 
steamer  with  just  enough  money  to  pay  my  fare  ;  and 
that  being  settled,  I  thought  in  my  innocence  that  I 
had  paid  for  everything  in  the  way  of  meals.  I  had 
what  I  wanted  as  long  as  we  were  in  smooth  water ; 
then  came  the  rough  Atlantic,  and  the  need  of  noth- 
ing more.  I  had  been  lying  in  my  berth  for  hours 
wretchedly  ill,  and  past  caring  for  anything  when  the 
steward  came  and  stood  beside  me. 

**  *  Your  bill,  sir,'  said  he,  holding  out  a  piece  of 
paper. 

"  *  I  have  no  money,'  said  I,  in  my  wretchedness. 

'*  *  Then  I  shall  keep  your  luggage.  What  is  your 
name  and  address  ?  '  I  told  him.  Instantly  he  took 
off  the  cap  he  wore,  with  the  gilt  band  around  it,  and 
held  out  his  hand.  *  I  should  like  to  shake  hands 
with  you,'  he  said.  Then  came  the  explanation — 
how  that,  some  years  before,  a  little  kindness  had 
been  shown  his  mother  by  my  father  in  the  sorrow  of 
her  widowhood.     *  I  never  thought  the  chance  would 


Pass  It  On  383 


come  for  me  to  repay  it/  he  said  pleasantly,  '  but  I'm 
glad  it  has/  As  soon  as  I  got  ashore  I  told  my 
father  what  had  happened.  *  Ah/  said  he,  *  see  how 
a  bit  of  kindness  lives  !  Now  he  has  passed  it  on  to 
you  ;  and  remember,  if  you  meet  anybody  who  needs 
a  friendly  hand,  you  must  pass  it  on  to  him/ 

*'  Such  is  the  simple  incident,  which  I  first  heard 
from  the  lips  of  my  father-in-law,  Mr.  Mark  Guy 
Pearse,  of  London,  and  it  was  his  *  Pass  it  on  * 
which  gave  the  inspiration  and  the  title  to  my  little 
song. 

**  The  words  have  had,  to  my  knowledge,  some 
sixteen  different  musical  settings,  but  the  most 
popular  one  in  England  is  the  one  composed  by  your 
own  Mr.  George  C.  Stebbins,  which  has  been  sung 
by  Gipsy  Smith  all  round  the  world." 

This  hymn  was  written,  as  Dr.  Burton  tells  me,  on 
April  3,  1885,  and  the  following  is  the  entire  poem  as 
the  author  has  copied  it  for  me.  In  our  hymnals  the 
third  stanza  is  usually  omitted  :  — 

Have  you  had  a  kindness  shown  ? 

Pass  it  on  ! 
'Twas  not  given  for  thee  alone  — 

Pass  it  on  ! 
Let  it  travel  down  the  years, 
Let  it  wipe  another's  tears, 
Till  in  heaven  the  deed  appears. 

Pass  it  on  ! 


Did  you  hear  the  loving  word 

Pass  it  on  ! 
Like  the  singing  of  a  bird  ? 

Pass  it  on  ! 


384  A  Treasure  of  Hymns 

Let  its  music  live  and  grow, 
Let  it  cheer  another's  woe, 
You  have  reaped  what  others  sow  — 
Pass  it  on  ! 

'Twas  the  sunshine  of  a  smile  — 

Pass  it  on  ! 
Staying  but  a  little  while  ? 

Pass  it  on  ! 
April  beam,  the  little  thing, 
Still  it  wakes  the  flowers  of  spring. 
Makes  the  silent  birds  to  sing  — 

Pass  it  on  ! 

Have  you  found  the  heavenly  light  ? 

Pass  it  on  ! 
Souls  are  groping  in  the  night, 

Daylight  gone ; 
Hold  thy  lighted  lamp  on  high, 
Be  a  star  in  some  one's  sky, 
He  may  live  who  else  would  die  — 

Pass  it  on  ! 

Love  demands  the  loving  deed  ; 

Pass  it  on ! 
Look  upon  thy  brother's  need. 

Pass  it  on  ! 
Live  for  self,  you  live  in  vain  ; 
Live  for  Christ,  you  live  again  ; 
Live  for  Him,  with  Him  you  reign  — 

Pass  it  on ! 


Index  of  Titles 


Abide  with  me  . 

All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name 

America,  the  Beautiful 

Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  cross  . 

A  mighty  fortress  is  our  God 

Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid  . 

As  shadows  cast  by  cloud  and  sun 

Awake,  my  soul 

Behold  !  a  stranger  at  the  door     . 
Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds     . 
Break  Thou  the  bread  of  life 
Bright  was  the  guiding  star  that  led 

Calm  on  the  listening  ear  of  night 
Cast  thy  burden  on  the  Lord 
Come,  said  Jesus'  sacred  voice 
Come,  Thou  Fount  of  every  blessing 
Come,  ye  disconsolate 
Come,  ye  thankful  people,  come  . 
Courage,  brother  !  do  not  stumble 
Crown  Him  with  many  crowns    . 

Day  by  day  the  manna  fell  . 

Father,  I  know  that  all  my  life 
Father,  let  me  dedicate 
Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bliss    . 
Fight  the  good  fight    . 

38s 


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92 

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135 

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249 

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270 
137 
353 
374 


.^86 


A  Treasure  of  Hymns 


For  the  beauty  of  the  earth  . 
From  Greenland's  icy  mountains  . 

Glorious  things  of  thee  are  spoken 
God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again 
God  bless  our  native  land 
God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way    . 
Great  God  !  we  sing  Thy  mighty  hand 

Hail  !   Columbia  .... 

Hail  to  the  brightness  of  Zion's  glad  morning 
Hark  !  ten  thousand  harps  and  voices 
How  firm  a  foundation 

I  am  so  glad  that  our  Father  in  heaven 
I  do  not  ask,  O  Lord,  that  life  may  be 
If  you  cannot  on  the  ocean 
I  love  Thy  Kingdom,  Lord 
Immortal  Love,  for  ever  full 
In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory 
In  the  field  with  their  flocks 
In  this  consecration  hour 

Jesus,  Lover  of  my  soul 
Jesus,  Saviour,  pilot  me 
Jesus,  still  lead  on 
Jesus,  the  very  thought  of  Thee 
Just  as  I  am 

Lead,  kindly  Light 

Let  us  with  a  gladsome  mind 

Lord,  it  belongs  not  to  my  care 

Lord  of  all  being,  throned  afar 

Lord !  while  for  all  mankind  we  pray 

Majestic  sweetness  sits  enthroned 
More  love  to  Thee,  O  Christ 


Index  of  Titles 


387 


My  country,  'tis  of  thee 
My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee  . 
My  times  are  in  Thy  hand 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee  . 

O  day  of  rest  and  gladness   . 

O  God,  beneath  Thy  guiding  hand 

O  God,  the  Rock  of  ages     . 

O  golden  day  so  long  desired 

Oh,  could  I  speak  the  matchless  worth 

Oh,  still  in  accents  sweet  and  strong 

Oh,  worship  the  King,  all-glorious  above 

O  little  town  of  Bethlehem 

O  Lord,  how  full  of  sweet  content 

O  Love  that  wilt  not  let  me  go 

O  Master,  let  me  walk  with  Thee 

Once  in  royal  David's  city  . 

Onward,  Christian  soldiers  . 

Onward,  Christian,  though  the  region 

O,  where  are  kings  and  empires  now 

Pass  it  on  . 

Prayer  is  the  soul's  sincere  desire  . 

Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings 
Rock  of  Ages     .... 

Saviour  !  teach  me  day  by  day 
Shall  we  gather  at  the  river 
Shepherd  of  tender  youth     . 
Shout  the  glad  tidings 
Softly  now  the  light  of  day 
Somebody  did  a  golden  deed 
Souls  of  men,  why  will  ye  scatter 
Speed  away        .... 
Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus 


388 


A  Treasure  of  Hymns 


Still,  still  with  Thee   . 
Summer  suns  are  glowing 
Sun  of  my  soul  . 
Sunset  and  evening  star 
Sweet  hour  of  prayer  . 

Take  my  life 

Tell  me  the  old,  old  story 

That  sweet  story  of  old 

The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic 

The  breaking  waves  dashed  high 

The  day  of  resurrection 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise 

The  King  of  love  my  shepherd  is 

There  are  lonely  hearts  to  cherish 

There  is  a  happy  land 

There's  a  song  in  the  air 

The  sands  of  time  are  sinking 

The  spacious  firmament  on  high 

The  Star-Spangled  Banner  . 

Throw  out  the  life-line 

Thy  way,  not  mine,  O  Lord 

Two  empires  by  the  sea 


Walk  in  the  light :  so  shalt  thou  know 

We  give  Thee  thanks,  O  God,  this  day 

We  plough  the  fields  . 

We  thank  Thee,  Lord,  for  this  fair  earth 

What  shall  the  harvest  be     . 

When  He  cometh 

When,  marshalled  on  the  nightly  plain 

When  morning  gilds  the  skies 

While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night 

While  Thee  I  seek,  protecting  Power    . 


Index  of  Authors 


Adams,  Sarah  Flower 
Addison,  Joseph 
Alexander,  Cecil  Frances 
Alford,  Henry  . 
Auber,  Harriet  . 

Bacon,  Leonard 
Baker,  Henry  Williams 
Barbauld,  Anna  Laetitia 
Baring-Gould,  Sabine 
Barton,  Bernard 
Bates,  Katharine  Lee 
Baxter,  Richard 
Bernard  of  Clairvaux 
Bickersteth,  Edward  Henry 
Bliss,  P.  P. 
Bonar,  Horatius 
Bowring,  Sir  John 
Bridges,  Matthew 
Brooks,  Bishop  . 
Brooks,  Charles  T. 
Bryant,  William  Cullen 
Burton,  Henry  . 

Caswall,  Edward 
Claudius,  Matthias 
Clement  of  Alexandri; 
Clements,  John  R. 
Conder,  Josiah  . 
Cooper,  George 


PAGE 
54 

347 
263 
249 
135 

289 
362 
276 
88 
313 

315 

206 
148 
203 
223 
368 

1^ 
142 

25 

47 

360 

380 

197 

343 
301 
200 
231 
187 


389 


390 


A  Treasure  of  Hymns 


Cotton,  George  Edward  Lynch 
Cousin,  Annie  Ross    . 
Cowper,  William 
Coxe,  Arthur  Cleveland 
Crosby,  Fanny  . 
Cushing,  William  Orcutt 

Dickinson,  Charles  Albert 
Doane,  George  Washington 
Doddridge,  Philip 
Duffield,  George 
D wight,  John  S. 
Dwight,  Timothy 


Elliott,  Charlotte 

Faber,  Frederick  William 
Farrar,  Frederic  William 
Fawcett,  John    . 

Gates,  Ellen  M.  Huntington 

Gladden,  Washington 

Grant,  Robert    . 

Grigg,  Joseph     . 

Grose,  Howard  Benjamin 

Guyon,  Madame 

Hankey,  Katherine 
Hastings,  Thomas 
Havergal,  Frances  Ridley 
Heber,  Bishop  . 
Hemans,  Felicia  Dorothea 
Hill,  Rowland    . 
Holland,  Josiah  Gilbert 
Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell 
Hopkinson,  Joseph 
Hopper,  Edward 


Index  of  Authors 


391 


How,  William  Walsham 
Howe,  Julia  Ward 
Huntington,  George 

John  of  Damascus 
Johnson,  Samuel 

Kebic,  John 
Keene,  Robert  . 
Kelly,  Thomas 
Ken,  Bishop  Thomas 
Key,  Francis  Scott 

Lathbury,  Mary  Artemisia 
Leeson,  Jane  Elizabeth 
Lloyd,  William  Freeman 
Longfellow,  Samuel 
Lowry,  Robert 
Luke,  Jemima    . 
Luther,  Martin 
Lyte,  Henry  Francis 

Macleod,  Norman 

Matheson,  George 

Medley,  Samuel 

Milton,  John 

Monsell,  John  Samuel  Bewl 

Montgomery,  James 

Moore,  Thomas 

Muhlenberg,  William  Augustus 


Neale,  John  Mason  . 
Newman,  John  Henry 
Newton,  John    . 

Oakey,  Emily  Sullivan 
OiFord,  Robert  M.  . 
Olivers.  Thomas 


392 


A  Treasure  of  Hymns 


Palmer,  Ray 
Perronet,  Edward 
Pierpoint,  Folliott  Sandford 
Prentiss,  Elizabeth  Payson 
Procter,  Adelaide  Anne 

Rankin,  J.  E.     . 
Robinson,  Robert 

Seagrave,  Robert 
Sears,  Edmand  Hamilton 
Smith,  Samuel  Francis 
Steele,  Anne 
Stennett,  Samuel 
Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher 

Tate,  Nahum     . 
Tennyson,  Alfred 
Toplady,  Augustus  M. 
Tuttiett,  Lawrence 

UiFord,  Edward  Smith 

Walford,  William  W. 
Waring,  Anna  Laetitia 
Watts,  Isaac 
Wesley,  Charles 
White,  Henry  Kirke  . 
Whittier,  John  Greenleaf 
Williams,  Helen  Maria 
Wordsworth,  Bishop  . 
Wreford,  John  Reynell 

Young,  Andrew 

Zinzendorf,  Count 


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